


Once Bitten, Twice Shy

by house_of_lantis



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bitterness, Dark Romance, Hannibal Kinkmeme, Hate Sex, M/M, Married Couple, Maybe a happy ending, canon violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2020-11-28 20:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20972660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: Will and Hannibal meet again for the first time in over five years in Jack’s office. Pushed together to work on the more difficult cases, Will and Hannibal finally try to reconcile their past in order to move on with their individual lives. But can they forgive each other for the hurt they’ve inflicted on each other?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exarite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exarite/gifts).

> Revisioning Season 1/Season 3 where Will and Hannibal are legally separated (but not divorced) bitter exes. 
> 
> This is written for a prompt by essa on the Hannibal Kinkmeme Discord.

**FBI Headquarters**

**Behavioral Science Unit **

**Jack Crawford’s Office **

Will Graham pushed open the door to Jack’s office, looking at his watch. “You have me for twenty minutes before I need to get back to the…” 

He paused, staring blindly at the back of the tall man standing near Jack. He felt his heart lurch in his chest, the sound of rushing blood loud in his ears. He would recognize that set of wide shoulders, even hidden under the ugly beige cashmere blazer, and the perfectly brushed ash blond hair, anywhere. 

The man turned, a polite smile on his lips as he looked at Will, dark eyes moving over Will with a familiar heated possessiveness. “Hello, Will.” 

“No,” Will said, turning right around and opening the door, hurrying out of Jack’s office into the hallway. 

“Will!” Jack called, chasing after him, but Will refused to stop. 

“I don’t appreciate being ambushed like this, Jack,” he said, sharply. “It was tasteless, even for you. Even for him--especially for him.” 

“I apologize, Will, but it wasn’t an ambush,” Jack said, taking long steps to keep up with Will’s pace. “Hannibal Lecter is the best forensic psychologist in the country and he’s already been cleared by the FBI to be our independent consultant. It was a last minute call and he only had time today to come down.” 

Will nodded, pursing his lips, heading for the elevator. “Great. Then you don’t need me on this case. Have Hannibal work up the psychological profile. He’s always enjoyed the sound of his own voice.” 

Jack stepped in front of Will, stopping him from taking another step. He met the older man’s dark brown eyes and sighed. 

“Will,” he said, softly. “I need you on this. I need the both of you on this case. It’s a bad one and I need all the help that I can get.” 

He snorted, looking away with a dull shake of his head. Jack was always too good at getting Will to capitulate, especially when people’s lives were at stake and Will could do something to save them. But this was his personal life intersecting with his professional one, and Will didn’t know if he had it in him to be in Hannibal’s presence. 

“I can’t work with him, Jack.” 

“You’re both professionals--” 

“Then I **don’t **want to work with him,” Will said, narrowing his eyes and pushing up his glasses with the tip of his index finger. He felt petulant and stupid for even having this discussion, wishing he was anywhere but here. 

“None of us have the luxury to let our personal demons take precedence over saving lives,” Jack said, his face hardening as he frowned at Will. “I understand that this isn’t easy for you; it’s not easy for him either. You don’t have to do anything more than just work on this case with him.” 

Will looked away, keeping his gaze over Jack’s right shoulder, clenching his teeth. Jack always had a way of speaking to him like a father admonishing his grown son. He didn’t think of Jack as his father figure, but he admired him and respected him. There was a bulldoggedness to Jack and his never failing hunt for justice that pulled Will along, trapped in Jack’s strong orbit. 

He gave a reluctant nod and allowed Jack to lead him back towards his office. Will managed his breathing, slow and deep, ensuring that the forts and walls he had built in defence against Hannibal were still holding and strong. 

“Okay, let’s get down to business,” Jack said, walking to the board showing the pictures of several young women, their personal stats listed next to their smiling photos. 

Will set down his bag and jacket on a nearby chair and joined Jack, maintaining a polite distance from Hannibal, and focused his attention on the female victims. 

“Seven victims, all abducted on a Friday so no one reported them missing until Monday,” Jack began, looking closely at each young woman’s photograph. 

“Three days is a long time to fulfill his fantasies. It’s methodical, organized, and coordinated,” Hannibal said, his voice low. “The killer takes his time to cover his tracks.” 

Will could feel Hannibal looking at him, wanting Will to concur with his profile. 

“Elise Nichols. She disappeared on Friday,” Jack said, tapping his fingers on the eighth victim. “She was supposed to house sit for her parents over the weekend. Feed their cat. She never made it home.” 

Will looked at the faces of each woman. Late teens or early twenties, brown hair, pretty but not overly memorable. No bodies were found. “These seven are already dead. He wouldn’t keep them around.”

“Not when the killer has a new victim,” Hannibal added, agreeably. 

Will ignored him, turning to look at Jack. He pointed his finger to the listed stats for each woman. “All of the victims have the same color hair, same color eyes. They’re roughly the same age, height, and weight. It’s not about all of these girls. It’s about one girl.” 

“Hidden in the midst, in plain sight,” Hannibal said, stepping closer to Will to examine each of the photographs. “Neither first nor last.” 

“She’s the Golden Ticket. He’d hide how special she was to him,” Will said, moving away to maintain his personal space from Hannibal. “It’s what I would do.” 

Jack nodded, looking at Will and then at Hannibal. “We’ll be leaving for Duluth, Minnesota first thing in the morning to speak to Elise Nichols’ parents. Admin will email you your flight information and per diem coupons.” 

“Fine,” Will said, walking towards the chair to gather his jacket and messenger bag. “I’ll see you at the airport.” 

He rushed out of Jack’s office and headed for the elevators, then bypassing them for the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. Will strolled through the main lobby of the headquarters building towards the adjacent parking garage. He refused to look over his shoulder, warily checking to see if Hannibal would even dare to follow him. 

“Will.” 

He ignored Hannibal and cut through the lot towards his car. 

“William Graham-Lecter.” 

“It’s Will Graham,” he said, not bothering to stop. 

“Legally, it is still William Graham-Lecter,” Hannibal said, catching up to him on silent feet. 

“Not for a lack of trying to change that on my part,” he said, pulling the key fob from his pocket and unlocking the doors. 

He opened the rear door and tossed in his jacket and bag, slamming it shut, his eyes flicking to see Hannibal standing close by but giving him space. 

“Look, we can keep it professional,” he offered, barely a token of peace. 

“Or we could be friendly.” 

Will snorted, letting out a harsh laugh. “Friendly. Right.” 

“I’ve missed you, Will,” Hannibal said, softly. “You’ve not been taking very good care of yourself. Are you eating regularly? Sleeping regularly?” 

“Stop it,” he hissed, glaring at Hannibal. “Don’t act like you have any right to know anything about me anymore.” 

Hannibal’s handsome face changed with the cruel tilt of his lips. “How’s Molly? And her son. Wally, is it?” 

“You know damn well that Molly and I aren’t together anymore,” he said, sneering at Hannibal. “You made sure to destroy any possibility of a relationship with her when you wouldn’t sign the divorce papers.” 

“Ah. She must have finally had second thoughts of being with a married man,” Hannibal said, tartly. “I applaud her moral courage to walk away.” 

“Fuck you,” Will said, opening the driver side door and getting into the car. He slammed the door shut and locked it, pushing the key into the ignition and started the engine. He pulled on the seatbelt and barely checked behind him as he backed the Volvo out of the parking spot. He didn’t give Hannibal a second glance. 

*** 

He blamed Alana Bloom for introducing him to Hannibal Lecter, esteemed psychologist and Baltimore society _ doyen _ of the highest caliber. As two men who came from vastly different ways of life, Will never expected that anything would come out of the initial meeting. 

But then Will found himself being invited to Hannibal’s house for intimate dinners, to opening night at the symphony, to private box seats at the opera, to VIP seats at the home games of the Orioles, to black tie galas, to $10,000 per person charity events, to White House state dinners, to the dining rooms of other well-heeled _ Baltimore Establishment _ members. 

There were long nights of sitting by the warmth of the fireplace, drinking fine whiskey or wine, and speaking about their lives. Long nights of friendship and intimacy turning into long nights of sexual exploration and skirting the edges of sexual depravity. 

Some nights, Will startled awake, drenched in sweat, his cock so hard that touching himself was more pain than relief. 

Hannibal expanded Will’s palate and satisfied his intellectual curiosity; and Will encouraged Hannibal to enjoy a simpler life, less structured around society and more focused on the delights of quiet, shared company. He turned Hannibal’s beautifully aesthetic house into a comfortable, warm home; and in turn, he allowed Hannibal control over his clothes and _ anything _he put into his body. 

Their wedding and reception was hosted at the Chandler Square house, joined only by close friends. A picture was released to the local paper’s society pages. Their honeymoon was a month-long sensual endeavor in Florence, Italy. 

And after a year of married bliss, everything went to hell. 

*** 

**The Nichols Residence**

**Duluth, Minnesota **

Will watched Elise’s parents as Jack spoke with them, his deep voice resonating with compassion. He looked around the house, warmly decorated and lived in, pictures of happy family moments captured forever. In many similar types of cases, the immediate family was put under intense scrutiny, searching for an abusive parent or other close family member being the most likely culprit, with usually a history of sexual molestation of the victim - a closely kept secret by the parents. But Will cleared Elise’s parents. The father was still trying to rationalize his daughter’s abduction, but the mother was resigned to the fate of their daughter. 

“How’s the cat?” Will said, turning to the parents. Hannibal gave him a pleased but quizzical look; Jack looked at him oddly. 

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Nichols said, her sad eyes looking at him. 

“Your cat,” he said, cocking his head slightly. “Elise was supposed to feed it. Was the cat acting weird when you came home? It didn’t eat all weekend so it must’ve been hungry.” 

The parents looked at each other, shaking their heads. 

“I didn’t notice anything,” Mr. Nichols said, taking a deep breath. “Do you think that she was here? That she must’ve taken care of the cat?” 

Will looked at Jack. “She was taken from here, Jack. She made it home, fed the cat, and she was taken from the house.” 

Jack nodded, taking his phone from his pocket. “The Nichols house is a crime scene. I need ERT immediately. Get me Zeller, Katz, Price, and a crime scene photographer. Now.” 

Will kept his eyes on the parents. He could tell that they were trying to wrap their minds around this new information. He could see a small spark of hope in the mother’s eyes; her husband reaching out to clasp her hand. 

“Can I see your daughter’s bedroom, please?” 

Mr. Nichols got to his feet, unsteadily. “Of course...but the police were up there this morning. We’ve all been in and out of her room.” 

“They didn’t find anything,” Mrs. Nichols said, her hands pressed against her chest, breathing shallowly. “Do you think..._ they _ were in our house!” 

Will signaled a nod to Hannibal to take care of Mrs. Nichols while he followed the husband upstairs. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, watching as the cat pawed at the closed door, letting out a mournful meow. 

“Let me get that,” Will said, gently pushing away Mr. Nichols’s hand from touching the doorknob. “Please don’t touch anything. You can hold the cat.” 

He reached down to scoop up the cat, placing it gently into Mr. Nichols’s arms. Will thought that maybe the man would need to hold onto something. Will tested the door and twisted the doorknob, pushing the door open slowly. 

The light from the hallway illuminated the bedroom and Will wasn’t surprised to see Elise Nichols tucked into her bed. He reached into the room and found the light switch, turning on the bedroom lights, staring at Elise, carefully dressed in a modest night dress, the covers folded down neatly around her. Except for the gray color of her skin, the dark marks around her neck, and the clean but bloody puncture wounds visible under her night dress, she could be mistaken for being asleep. 

“Elise?” Mr. Nichols called, his voice breaking with shock and hope. 

“I need you to leave the room,” Will said, standing in the doorway to prevent Mr. Nichols from coming into the room any further. 

The father let out a low gasp of pain and sorrow and horror, dropping the cat from his arms and nearly falling to the hallway floor. He caught himself against the wall, eyes wet with tears as he stared up at Will in disbelief and loss. 

Will let himself feel Mr. Nichols’s pain for only a moment, turning away from him to look at Elise, wondering why she was brought back when the others weren’t. What was special or different about her? She fit the physical profile of the other victims, but yet she was returned to her family home, knowing that she would be found. 

He stood in the room for a long time, ignoring the chaos that was occurring around him. He could hear the echoes of Jack’s firm voice, calling for EMTs to assist Mr. Nichols, carrying him out of the house to the ambulance outside. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the ERT in the hallway, holding in place as Jack kept them out so that Will could have the room. He freed his imagination and his curiosity, letting it wash over him. 

“What do you see, Will?” 

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. “I climbed the rose trellis to her opened bedroom window, quietly pushing it up and slipping inside. No one notices me. I blend into the neighborhood. Things like this doesn’t happen here. She’s asleep, peaceful, the perfect choice for what I need to do. She doesn’t know I’m there until I climb onto the bed, pressing my knee into her chest to crack her ribs, my hands around her neck. Squeezing the life out of her. She fights me, she wants to live, she’s crying, but she’s no match for me. She tries to scream but my hands tighten even more until her eyes roll back and she dies.” 

“You took her but then brought her back. Why did you bring her back?” 

“I took her out of the house. It was a clean kill,” Will said, softly. “But there’s something wrong with her. I can’t do with her what I’ve done with the others. I’ve killed her for no good reason. I return her and ensure that she is untouched. I try to undo my mistake but I know I can’t. I have to leave a message to show that I honored her. This is my apology.” 

He opened his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath when he saw that Hannibal was standing in the room with him. Dark eyes watched him avidly, coveting Will’s curse like a prize. Hannibal had never witnessed Will like this; and Will could tell from the expression on Hannibal’s face that he enjoyed it immensely. 

“What a remarkable boy you are,” Hannibal said, softly. 

_ “Get out,” _ Will whispered, rubbing his hands over his face. 

Hannibal opened the door, letting Jack and his forensics team into the room. 

Jack walked up to Will, face stern and expectant. “Tell me what you saw.” 

*** 

Will plopped down into the uncomfortable Coach seat, he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Thankfully, the plane wasn’t filled to capacity on the red eye flight and maybe he’d luck out without any seat partners. 

“Excuse me, but I have the window seat.” 

Will opened his eyes and looked up at Hannibal. “You can sit somewhere else, the plane’s not that full.” 

“Will,” Hannibal said, admonishingly. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, getting out of his seat and standing in the aisle so that Hannibal could slip past him, taking the window seat. Will sat down in the aisle seat and closed his eyes, leaning his head back, intending to ignore Hannibal for the rest of the flight. 

“I hoped that we could talk.” 

“I’m surprised you’re even flying Coach. Wouldn’t want to stink up your fancy suits by being stuck back here with the masses,” Will said, meanly. “I’m sure the FBI would’ve reimbursed you for flying First Class.” 

“I would not waste taxpayer money on such a minor inconvenience.” 

Will opened his eyes and gave Hannibal a sidelong look. “Give me a break.” 

Hannibal smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in genuine amusement. Will snorted and turned his head away, closing his eyes again. 

He forced himself to ignore Hannibal. He had forgotten what prolonged exposure to Hannibal did to him; how it softened him under Hannibal’s adoration. Because it was adoration. Hannibal didn’t moderate his feelings for Will, it was all or nothing, and Will knew what it was like to be adored and he knew what it was like to be frozen out by Hannibal. He wasn’t going to let himself be vulnerable for this man again. 

*** 

**Will Graham’s House**

**Wolf Trap, Virginia **

Will sat in a chair on his front porch, surrounded by his pack of mutts. The newest member of his pack, Winston, was turning out to be a calm dog, sticking by his side while the others dogs ran about the front yard, playing and barking happily. 

He reached out and stroked his hand over Winston’s head, patting him on the back. The dog turned and looked at him with dark eyes. “Go on, go play with the others, Winston. You don’t have to stay with me all the time.” 

Winston got to his feet, looking out at the yard at the other dogs, and then looking back at Will. He chuckled, nodding to Winston, patting him encouragingly. 

“Go on, boy, go on.” 

He watched as Winston jumped off the porch and took off, barking happily to the other dogs, running with his new pack. Will smiled, picking up the glass of whiskey from the small table beside him, and took a small drink. 

There were times when he would imagine something like this during his marriage to Hannibal. Will kept his small white farmhouse, letting Hannibal renovate it up to his standards, and they used it as their weekend house to get away from their busy lives in Baltimore. Hannibal spent the day working on the vegetable garden behind the house, trying out new recipes for Will to enjoy; while Will made lures and walked to the river to catch their dinner. He always brought back two large and healthy largemouth bass and Hannibal would make something impressively delicious. 

At night, they would sit outside on the front porch and Will would dream about having a dog or two, running around the yard. Of all the things that Hannibal drew a line on, it was dogs. Or owning any pets. They lived busy lives and were rarely home long enough to care for a pet and it simply wouldn’t be fair for them to be alone, Hannibal reasoned. Will suspected that Hannibal didn’t want to deal with the endless dog hair and mess, but he was too dignified to say so to Will. 

A part of Will was just a little gleeful over the fact that he had seven dogs now. He thought it was a fair trade: Less one fussy, asshole husband for six loyal, awesome dogs. 

He let out a soft laugh, watching as Buster crashed into Winston, knocking them both to the grass. The feisty little dog wasn’t even bothered, getting back up on his feet and running around, barking with confidence and gusto. Winston got to his feet and seemingly let out a sigh. He trotted back towards the house, sitting down next to Will, looking out at the yard. 

Will sipped his drink again. He didn’t miss Hannibal at all. 

*** 


	2. Chapter 2

**FBI Headquarters**

**Behavioral Science Unit**

**Lab Room A-114 **

Will stepped into the basement forensic labs and nodded a greeting to Jack’s forensic team as they stood by Elise Nichols body on the gurney. 

“You’re Will Graham-Lecter,” the woman said, smiling widely at him as she handed him a pair of latex gloves. Her splash visor was lifted up, pulling back her long black hair. He thought she was quite attractive and maybe a little too friendly. “I’m Beverly Katz. We didn’t get a chance to say hello at the Nichols’ house.” 

“It’s just Will Graham, if you don’t mind,” he said, taking the gloves from her and pulling them on efficiently. 

“You wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity,” the older man said, walking towards him. “I’m Jimmy Price. That’s Brian Zeller. Your monograph is mandatory reading down here. Pretty damn good stuff.” 

“Thanks,” Will said, a little dismissively, moving towards Elise’s body. “Were you able to process anything from her?” 

“No semen, no saliva,” Jack said, walking into the labs. Will turned to see that Hannibal followed him in. “There was no sexual activity on her body.” 

“The killer isn’t a sexual predator,” Hannibal said, his deep voice echoing in the sterile lab space. He walked past Will and looked down at Elise’s body. “His profile suggests that he’s a sadist, but a controlled killer. The swift way that he killed her, although close and intimate, shows that her death wasn’t the intended outcome, merely the process to something else.” 

“He loves them,” Will told them, taking a deep breath, imagining the killer’s rush of emotion, a different kind of thrill. “Well, he loves ** one** of them, his Golden Ticket. And maybe he has some form of love for the other women through association. He wouldn’t disrespect them by sexualizing his kills. He kills them quickly, mercifully.” 

Hannibal turned and looked at Will. “He didn’t want them to suffer outright.” 

“He’s going to be looking for a new girl, his next victim,” Will said, looking at Jack. 

“Tell them what you found,” Jack said, nodding his head to the team. 

“We tried her skin for prints, of course, nothing. But we did get a hand spread off her neck,” Jimmy said, brushing her hair from her neck to show them the bruisings.

“Was there anything under her nails?” Hannibal inquired, politely. 

“Her fingernails were smudged when we took scrapings, but the scrapings were her own skin where she dug her nails into her palms. She never scratched her killer,” Brian said, handing Jack a paper copy of their forensic reports. 

Will turned her hand, palm up, to see the deep impressions her fingernails made through her skin. 

“I found antler velvet in two of the wounds,” Beverly said, her eyes flicking from Hannibal to Will. “It looks like she was gored. And then there’s this.” 

She held up a small evidence container holding very small shards of metal. Will pushed up his eyeglasses and leaned closer, examining the shavings. 

“We should be looking at plumbers, steam-fitters, toolworkers. Construction or industrial,” Will said, absently, pulling back the sheet covering her modesty, and leaning down to get a better look at the wounds along her abdomen. “She wasn’t gored by a living animal. She was hung up on antlers, mounted, and bled dry.” 

“Waiting to be butchered,” Hannibal murmured, looking at Will. 

Will hated to admit it, but Hannibal was right. He was actually good at this type of work. He was calm and steady, emotionally disconnected to the victim and the perpetrator. His mind was wholly focused on building a profile; and he was right. They both knew where this was headed. 

“Post-mortem autopsy showed that her liver was removed...and then it was put back inside, tucked away where he found it,” Jimmy said, frowning slightly. “Who takes a liver and then puts it back? Some kind of regretful organ thief?” 

“When there’s something wrong with the meat,” Will said, standing up and taking a step back. He bumped into Hannibal and turned, glaring at him. 

Brian exchanged startled, suspicious looks with Jimmy and Beverly. “She had liver cancer.” 

“He’s eating them,” Hannibal said, quietly. 

Will felt the blood drain from his face, watching as the others reacted in a similar manner. Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. 

“Are you certain?” Jack said, looking at Hannibal. He turned to stare at Will, waiting for his input. 

“He’s right,” Will said, swallowing down the bile threatening to rise up his throat. “The killer is eating them. He’s a hunter. It’s the way that he honors them, consuming them. That’s why none of the other victims bodies were ever found. And that’s why he returned Elise. He wouldn’t eat tainted meat. He changed his methodology -- he made a mistake. He knows that we’re close. And he’ll be looking for the next one now -- he might even go after his Golden Ticket.” 

“In your professional estimation, Doctor Lecter, can he ever stop on his own?” 

There was a slight tick on Hannibal’s cheek, his expression solemn. “While the pathology of cannibalism is rare, it is not a compulsion that can be easily satiated. The killer has developed a highly efficient and effective methodology now.” 

“He’s gotten a taste for it,” Will said, somewhat morbidly and far more straightforwardly. “He’s not going to stop on his own, Jack.” 

Hannibal tilted his head and gave him a small smile of admiration and pleasure. Will frowned at him, wondering what the hell was wrong with him for  _ flirting _ with Will in the middle of this discussion! 

“Jesus Christ,” Jack muttered under his breath. He sighed and pressed his hand over his forehead, using the silence in the room to gather his thoughts. 

Will watched as Jack turned to his forensics team, conferring with them on how to manage the findings, what they would and would not release to the media and the public, and for Beverly to begin tracing the metal shaving. 

He reached down and picked up the sheet, covering the rest of Elise’s body with it, their examination completed. 

“Will, I was wondering if you would join me for dinner,” Hannibal said, keeping his voice low and intimate. 

“I don’t really have an appetite right now, Hannibal.” 

“Of course, I didn’t mean this moment. Would you join me at our house on Friday night? At seven?” 

_ Our _ house. Will hadn’t thought about the Chandler Square house as “our” house since the day he walked out of it, five years ago. 

Will swallowed, not looking at Hannibal. He knew this was probably a long time coming. Maybe he and Hannibal could finally have a calm discussion about their separation; that Hannibal was ready to talk about divorce proceedings again.

“Fine,” he said, brusquely, glancing up to meet Hannibal’s eyes for a brief moment. Hannibal gave a nod in acknowledgement as Will turned to walk away. 

*** 

It was during the early months of their second year of marriage that Will started to experience intense hallucinations, time loss, fever, and painful headaches. He thought he was just suffering from stress or a cold, and he trusted Hannibal to help him through it. Hannibal had spent a number of years as a medical doctor and ER surgeon before going back to school and earning a degree in clinical and forensic psychology. 

Will was considering taking a sabbatical from his teaching duties and field work when he had a seizure and collapsed in his classroom during the middle of his lecture. They rushed him to the hospital where they diagnosed him with encephalitis. He spent four weeks in a medically induced coma while they treated the viral infection and inflammation of his brain. He woke up in the long-term care wing at Johns Hopkins Hospital, his doctors telling him what happened, and that his husband had consented to his medical treatments. 

It took Will a few days to feel better, even though he was still a little weak. But the confusion and the madness was gone, and it was in this clarity that Will realized that Hannibal made a mistake. 

He was sitting outside on a bench in the small garden behind the hospital, one of the orderlies had escorted him out so that Will could get some sun and fresh air. Hannibal sat down beside him, holding his hand, a look of concern...and  _ something else _ on his handsome face. 

Will chuckled, teasingly. “You look disappointed to see me outside of my hospital bed.” 

“Never,” Hannibal said, picking up his hand and placing a kiss on his palm. “I don’t have the words to express how I have felt these last few weeks, Will. Seeing you in the coma, unresponsive and still, was enormously frightening.” 

“Well, the doctors tell me that the treatment has worked and I’m clear of the infection,” he said, brightly, caressing his hand on Hannibal’s smooth cheek. “I’ll get to come home in a few more days.” 

“Many of your students and colleagues from the Academy have sent you cards and gifts. Our friends have sent their own messages and well wishes. I’ve collected them all and left them for you at the house,” Hannibal said, leaning close to press his lips against Will’s cheek. “Oh, Will...how I have missed you. I am so glad that you are recovered. I must keep you home for a little while if only to selfishly reassure myself that you are stronger.” 

Will laughed, pressing himself against Hannibal’s chest, letting him hold Will. “Well, that just gives me more free time to write thank you notes.” 

“I think they would all appreciate the personal touch to know that you are well,” Hannibal murmured approvingly. 

He basked in Hannibal’s affection and let out a soft sigh. “I don’t blame you.” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

Will raised his head to meet Hannibal’s confused gaze. “About you missing the encephalitis. I don’t blame you. Neither of us thought it was anything more serious than just migraines and a bad cold.” 

There was that flicker of  _ something _ on Hannibal’s face again; an emotion that Will couldn’t place. Hannibal stared at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

“I will never forgive myself for my mistake,” Hannibal said, dully. Rote. 

Will stared at him for a long moment, narrowing his eyes slightly as his imagination slipped to the forefront. He had only looked this deeply at Hannibal during the first few months of their acquaintance, mostly to suss out what it was that Hannibal really wanted from him. A fuck, a relationship, something more? In those early months, Will never saw anything worse than Hannibal’s keen mind and a little bit of manipulation, so he felt reassured that he’d seen enough of Hannibal to trust him. 

“You...knew. But you didn’t say anything,” Will said, reading him thoroughly now. “Not because you wanted to see me die. You were curious. You wanted to see what would happen to me. You enjoyed...winding me up and watching me perform my madness.” 

_ “Will,” _ Hannibal whispered, unable to protest under Will’s intense gaze.  _ “Please.”  _

Will pulled away from him. “I’d like to be alone now.” 

“May I explain myself first before you judge--” 

“When I’m released, I plan to go to my farmhouse in Wolf Trap. Alone.” 

“For how long?” 

Will looked at him, the edges of his lips moving into a snarl. “For as long as it takes for me to forgive you for fucking with my mind and my health.” 

“You’re still recovering from your illness. Please come home and let me care for you. I’ll hire a private nurse if you...you can’t trust me as your medical proxy.” 

“How about this, Hannibal? I’m going to move out to my farmhouse and I’ll hire my own private nurse. You will stay the hell away from me. Or I’ll ruin you. I’ll ruin you professionally and socially with all of your fucking high society friends. I’ll tell them how you prevented my care because you’re an abusive fucking spouse.” 

Hannibal’s lips thinned, his eyes flinty. “None would believe you.” 

“Want to take that risk?” He said, smirking challengingly at him. “Get away from me, Hannibal. If you stay away from me, then I’ll keep quiet and you can tell everyone whatever the hell you want on why I left you.” 

“I see,” Hannibal said, softly. “Then there is nothing that I can say to change your mind.” 

“No. Especially since it is  **my** mind once more.” 

He watched as Hannibal stood up, smoothing down the front of his jacket. “I am glad that you are well. I hope that in time you’ll allow me a chance to earn your forgiveness and trust.” 

“My forgiveness is a lot like how God forgives,” he said, tartly, giving Hannibal a mean grin. “Are you sure you want to earn it that way?” 

Hannibal takes a shuddering breath. “With a knife in your hand and a smile on your lips. You’ll cut me quickly and then gloat.” 

“Does God gloat?” 

“Yes. Often,” Hannibal said, meeting Will’s eyes. “But He forgives. Will you?” 

***

**Minneapolis Motel **

**Minneapolis, Minnesota **

Will opened the door to his motel room dressed only in his white undershirt and blue boxers, and stared blearily at Hannibal. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Jack asked me to collect you. He’s liaising with the local law enforcement. They’ll meet us at the construction site as soon as they are finished downtown. The adventure will be yours and mine this morning.” 

“You’re pleased with yourself,” he said, noting Hannibal’s excitement, raising his eyebrow. 

“May I come in?” 

“Fine,” Will said, waving Hannibal into his motel room. He walked to the chair and picked up his khaki pants, slipping them on as Hannibal stepped inside and closed the door. “So why are you so happy?” 

“We’ve never worked together before. I’ve never seen you at work in the field,” Hannibal said, watching unashamedly as Will got dressed. “It’s one thing to know what you do, and quite another to witness it.” 

“Yeah, you always got off on watching me perform,” Will said, pulling on his plaid button-down shirt and turning to look at Hannibal. 

“Observing is what we do. I can’t turn it off anymore than you can.” Hannibal said, not bothering to hide his interest. Will worked on buttoning his shirt, staring at Hannibal. “Jack only gave me a general summary of why we’re in Minneapolis. Would you fill in the rest?” 

“Beverly Katz analyzed the metal sliver found on Elise Nichols’s night clothes. It’s from a pipe threader.” 

“There must be hundreds of construction sites all over Minnesota.” 

“It’s a certain kind of metal, certain kind of pipe, certain kind of pipe coating. So we’re looking at three construction sites that uses that kind of pipe,” Will said, pushing the tails of his shirt into his pants. He picked up the well-worn brown leather belt, a gift from Hannibal when Will allowed him to purchase his clothes, and threaded it into the belt hoops, folding it closed. Hannibal’s eyes followed the movement of his hands on the belt, licking his upper lip. 

“What is it that you’re looking for?” Hannibal said, curiously. 

Will sat down on his unmade bed and pulled on socks, then slipped on his shoes. He tied the knots neatly and got to his feet. 

“Anything, really,” he said, shrugging slightly. “Anything peculiar that catches our eye.” 

***

Will used his key for the side door and walked into the house. He had texted Hannibal earlier that he would be by to pick up a few more of his things. In the three weeks of Will moving out to his farmhouse, they had kept to text messages as their only form of communication, their conversations short and to the point. 

He walked into the hallway through the dining room and into the kitchen, and stopped, staring at Hannibal holding Alana. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting...whatever,” Will said, frowning at them. 

“Oh Will, it’s not what it looks like. Neither of us would ever betray you like that,” Alana said, moving away from Hannibal and walking towards Will. She wiped the corners of her eyes and sniffled, giving him a warm hug. “I’m so sorry. Hannibal just told me that...you and he were having difficulties.” 

“I’m sure he appreciated you consoling him,” Will said, his voice flat and angry. 

Will stared at Hannibal, watching as he picked up a white tea towel from the counter, folding it carefully. 

“Hello, Will,” he said, softly. “I’m glad you’re here. Would you stay for dinner?” 

“Nope,” Will said, pulling away from Alana, keeping his fury barely reined in. “Just came for some of my stuff.” 

Alana gave him a pained look. “Please, Will, stay. I’ll leave so you two can have a chance to talk.” 

“No, I’ll only take a few minutes and I’ll get out of your hair,” Will said, bitterly. “You two can continue to talk about the downfall of our marriage. I’m sure Hannibal has a lot to say about it.” 

“Will,” Alana said, helplessly. 

Will turned and walked down the hallway to the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. He walked into the master bedroom and into the large walk-in closet. In the cabinet was one of his suitcases and he tossed it on the ottoman, unzipping it roughly. He bypassed the numerous tailored suits, opting to take his casual clothes, a few shirts and sweaters, slacks, socks and shoes. 

Hannibal stood in the doorway, watching him intently. “You were incredibly rude to our friend.” 

“Well, how would you feel if you walked into my house and saw me holding onto someone else? We can talk about your feelings then.” 

“Please reconsider and stay for dinner. If not for my sake, then for Alana’s. She feels quite terrible and your presence would go a long way to soothe her fear that you’re angry with her.” 

Will laughed, throwing his clothes into the suitcase haphazardly. “No thanks. I don’t want to be a third wheel at your little dinner date with Alana.” 

“It’s not a date,” Hannibal protested, walking towards the suitcase and picking up the clothes, trying to fold them neatly. 

Will ripped the clothes from Hannibal’s hands. “I can pack my own shit, thanks. I don’t need your help in moving me out of your house.” 

“Moving out of  **our** house, William!” Hannibal said, raising his voice. “By your choice, not mine!” 

Will shoved the clothes and shoes deeper into the suitcase and tried to zip it, the zipper catching on the fabric protruding from within. He forced his knee on top of the cover, pushing it down and zipping it up. 

“Enjoy your fucking evening,” Will snapped at him, grabbing the handle to the suitcase and dragging it across the polished hardwood floor of the walk-in closet, leaving behind a long scratch with the metal foot of the wheel. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Garret Jacob Hobbs Residence**

**Bloomington, Minnesota **

Will parked the rental car along the curb in front of the Hobbs residence. It was a large, multi-leveled and well maintained home, aesthetically similar to the other houses lined along the street. They were all of the same type of late 1970s middle American architecture - stones, masonry, and wood - more function than form. He got out of the vehicle and took a look around the quiet street, past the time for early morning commuters. 

He opened the rear passenger door and opened the metal case containing his weapon, checking it quickly, and settling it in the holster underneath his tweed jacket. He buttoned it and stood up, closing both car doors, and turned to the house. 

Will and Hannibal had discussed what role each of them would play for this visit. Garret Jacob Hobbs wasn’t a suspect and Will was following a hunch. He didn’t think anything would come of it, but he wanted to quiet the little buzz in the corner of his mind that kept bringing his focus to Hobbs’ resignation letter. He took a quick glance at Hannibal and saw that he was obviously excited. 

“Okay, stop for a sec,” Will said, pausing mid-step on the driveway, looking carefully at Hannibal. “Mind if you tell me why you’re so excited?” 

Hannibal couldn’t hide his smile. “I’m getting a chance to look behind the curtain. I’ve always been curious how the FBI goes about its business when it isn’t kicking in doors.” 

Will smiled with him but then shook his head. “I doubt it’ll be that kind of visit.” 

“No door kicking then?” Hannibal said, playfully. 

He let out a sigh and they both started walking towards the open front porch to the front doors. “I don’t expect anything will come out of this...I just wanted to tag it and then file it away.” 

Not seeing a door knocker, Will reached for the doorbell and pressed it once, hearing the sound of bells chiming inside. He cleared his throat and reached into the interior pocket of his jacket and pulled out his identification billfold. 

The door opened and a friendly, middle-aged woman with short dirty blonde hair smiled at them, looking from Will to Hannibal. “Oh, hello.” 

“Good morning, ma’am. I’m Special Investigator Will Graham from the FBI. This is Doctor Hannibal Lecter. May we have a moment to speak to Mr. Garret Jacob Hobbs?” 

He held up his identification, giving her a moment to scan his ID. He could see that she was confused, a little intimidated, and just slightly excited. He didn’t expect that the good people of Bloomington, Minnesota saw much federal law enforcement except on television. 

“Oh!” She said, caught off guard, blinking up at them. She gave a cautious smile. “Oh, sure. He’s my husband. We were just making breakfast. Come on in, gentlemen. Would you like some coffee?” 

Will gave her a professional grin and stepped into the house, shaking his head. “Thank you for the kind offer, Mrs. Hobbs, but we’ll decline.” 

Hannibal closed the door behind them as Will looked around the interior of the house. It had a very naturalistic, organic feel. Homey, but not cheap. The colors were warm browns and oranges, rustic charm. It spoke to him of people who were comfortable and lived within their means. There wasn’t anything ostentatious about the Hobbs family; they blended in, much like their neighbors. 

“Garret! There’s gentlemen from the FBI here to see you,” Mrs. Hobbs called, her voice a little playful and a little serious. 

Will and Hannibal followed her down the sunny hallway into the large open kitchen. The table was set for three and they were eating family style. The food smelled delicious - bacon, eggs, toast, and rich coffee. 

Garret Jacob Hobbs was manning the stove, carefully lowering the flame on the gas. He picked up a kitchen towel and wiped his hands, looking at Will and then at Hannibal. 

Will considered him for a long moment. He was in his 40s, like Mrs. Hobbs, a man of average height, slim build but wiry. He was a pipe threader so he probably had strength in his arms and hands. He was balding, his skin tanned from working outside in the sun, and he was dressed in well worn jeans and a plaid button-down shirt. He had no distinguishing features or marks; and if Will passed him on the street, he wouldn’t remember anything that stood out. 

“FBI?” Garret said, his eyes widening. “You two are a long way from the Nation’s Capital. Could we fix you a plate?” 

“No, thank you, sir,” Will said, showing his identification. “I’m Special Investigator Will Graham. This is Doctor Hannibal Lecter. We just had a few questions related to your previous employment at the construction site. Do you think we could go somewhere private?” 

“Yeah, come into the living room,” Garrett said, motioning for Will and Hannibal towards the wide doorway to the living room. “Louise, hon, can you keep an eye on my eggs?” 

“Sure, dear,” she said, pressing her hand on Garret’s shoulder as she passed him to walk to the stove. 

“So what can I help you gentlemen with?” Garret said, motioning for them to sit down on the couch. 

Will and Hannibal remained standing. He didn’t think it would require a formal sit down conversation. Hannibal kept to his role, observing quietly and looking around at the house in an unobtrusive manner. Will noted that Garret watched Hannibal as he looked around. 

“Mr. Hobbs, we’re currently investigating the death of a young woman named Elise Nichols, as well as seven missing young women,” Will began, watching Garret carefully. 

Garret nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yes, we’ve been following it on the news. Horrible things to have happened. My wife and I have been, well, overly protective of our own daughter these days. Has there been any news? A break in the case? Is that why you’re here?” 

“I’m not at liberty to speak on the status of an ongoing investigation.” 

“Right, of course,” Garret said, his expression one of confusion. “How can I help you? I mean, I don’t know how I could help.” 

“Mr. Hobbs, you recently resigned from your work as a pipe threader at the Minneapolis Construction Company to pursue other employment opportunities. Were there any other reasons for leaving the company? You were there for over ten years.” 

“Yeah, it was personal reasons, mostly to be closer to home,” he said, nodding. “Our daughter’s a senior in high school and, well, I guess I just want to spend some time at home before she goes off to school.” 

“Do you hunt, Mr. Hobbs?” Hannibal said, his voice warm and curious. “You have a number of interesting pieces.” 

Will noticed that there were a few well-made animal statues in the living room, a couple of deer antlers, not unlike the ones in Hannibal’s house. Not enough to be creepy, but definitely as trophies for a man who took pride in his work. 

“Yeah, you kind of grow up hunting around here,” Garret said, smiling. Will noted that that was the first genuine expression Garret made. “I made those myself. I like to say that I dabble a bit in taxidermy.” 

“I recognize craftsmanship,” Hannibal said, his voice echoing Garret’s pride. 

“Are you a hunter?” 

Hannibal shook his head, letting out a soft laugh. “No, nothing like that. I’m more of a collector.” 

Garret smiled and nodded along, then looked at Will expectantly. 

“Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Hobbs,” Will said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card and handing it to him. “We’ll let you get back to your breakfast with your family.” 

“Sorry I couldn’t have been of more help, gentlemen,” Garret said, taking the card and smiling at Will. 

“It’s all right. This visit was just closing the loop on a bureaucratic paper trail.” 

“Let me walk you out,” Garret said, motioning to the doorway back into the foyer. “Abby, honey, come on down and help your mother with breakfast.” 

“Okay, dad!” A young woman called from the second floor. 

Will turned to look up at the teenager cheerfully running down the stairs, offering a polite smile to Will when she reached the landing. She was pretty, but plain, with long brown hair, blue eyes, and sunkissed skin. She looked like every other young, pretty, and healthy girl from the state. 

Garret held open the door, shaking Hannibal’s hand and then Will’s. “Have a nice day.” 

Will met and held the man’s eyes; he watched as Hobbs’s eyes slid past Will to look at his daughter. 

She was the Golden Ticket. 

Will stepped out of the house, heading down the driveway towards the car. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing Jack. 

“Jack, I want Garret Jacob Hobbs put under police surveillance,” he said, tapping his fingers on the top of the vehicle. He met Hannibal’s quizzical look, listening to Jack as he shouted something to someone. “It’s a gut feeling. Hobbs has a daughter who fits the victim profile; he’s a hunter and a taxidermist. I’m willing to bet that they own a hunting lodge somewhere in the woods that he’s using as his kill room--” 

“Will!” Hannibal said, urgently, gesturing behind him towards the Hobbs house. 

Mrs. Hobbs, bleeding and wheezing, collapsed on the front porch steps in a heap. She was drenched in blood, her throat slashed, stab wounds covering her upper body, arms, and hands. Her colorful floral shirt was soaked red and black with blood, pouring out onto the concrete under her. 

“Shit,” Will hissed, clutching the phone in his hand as he and Hannibal ran towards the house. “Jack, I need ERT and EMT at the Hobbs residence now! It’s 35 Stavies Road, Bloomington. Mrs. Hobbs has been stabbed repeatedly--Hannibal, check her!--and I’m going into the house.” 

Hannibal tried to perform life saving measures, but they both knew that she was bleeding out. He looked up at Will and shook his head. 

Will tossed Hannibal his phone and unbuttoned his jacket, drawing his weapon with his right hand. He worked his way into the house, gun held out in front of him, checking the living room. Fuck, how was he so close and didn’t see it soon enough? He looked at the blood trail left by Mrs. Hobbs, following it until he reached the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Hobbs! Garret!” 

Hobbs held the daughter against him, his knife already slashing across her throat, and then stabbing into her chest. 

“Hobbs!” Will shouted, watching as the girl fell to her knees and collapsed. “Stop! Drop the knife!” 

Garret took two steps towards Will and Will pulled the trigger on his gun, a clean shot into Garret’s chest, followed by six more into his chest and abdomen, until Garett fell against the kitchen cabinets and the floor in a bloody mess. 

“Hannibal!” Will shouted, over his shoulder. “Clear! Come and check on the daughter!” 

Hannibal ran into the house and slipped past Will, going to his knees next to the teenager. He grabbed for the nearest kitchen towel, holding it against the wound on her neck, but she was gasping and choking, seizing on the kitchen floor. Her wide blue eyes stared up at Will, mouth opening and closing. 

“The ambulance is five minutes away,” Hannibal said to the girl, reaching out with his other hand to hold hers. “Stay with me, my dear.” 

Will kept his eyes focused on Garret Jacob Hobbs, the man’s face was pale and his hands were shaking. He held his gun on Hobbs, making sure that Hannibal had coverage in case Hobbs tried to strike out at them one final time. 

The girl coughed up blood and let out a wheezing sound, like it was her last breath of air. Will watched as Garret stared at her, tears in his eyes, until he took his last breath as well. 

*** 

He met Molly Foster a year after he separated from Hannibal. He was carrying a bag of groceries and stood outside of the store, waiting for the oncoming car to pass, when he saw a young boy with dark brown hair dart past him, running across the street without looking to his left, his blind side. 

Will dropped his bag and reached out to grab the boy by the shoulders, pulling him back just before the car skidded to a stop, past them. 

“Ohmygod! Wally! Oh fuck!” A woman screamed behind them, hurrying to the boy as Will settled him on his feet. She ran her hands over him, checking him over for injuries, and then hugged the boy while she was on her knees. “Oh God! What were you thinking, sweetheart? What--! Ohmygod! You could’ve been hit by the car! You could’ve been--” 

Will looked at down at his bag of groceries, sighing at the broken jar of pickles, the juices leaking everywhere over his packages of deli slices, cheese and bread. There goes dinner. 

“Hey! Sir! Uh, ohmygod, thank you! You saved his life,” she said, grabbing Will’s arm and holding onto it tightly. He could feel her hand shaking against him. 

“It’s all right,” he said, softly. “He’s fine now, just a little shaken up.” 

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes wet, but a grateful smile on her lips. Will thought she was pretty, and he awkwardly patted her on her arm, picking up his bag of broken glass and pickle juice. He looked at the boy, Wally, who stared up at him with quiet intensity. 

“Just, uh, be careful,” Will said, giving him a nod, and checked the street before crossing it, heading for his car. 

He didn’t really think about the encounter again, until two weeks later when he was in the bait and tackle shop on Gloucester Street. 

“It’s our hero,” a woman said, her voice low and friendly. “Hello again.”

Will looked up, frowning slightly, and it took him a moment to recognize her and the young boy standing next to her. “Hi.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name. I’m Molly Foster, this is my son, Wally,” she said, holding out her hand. 

He shook it, feeling the soft warmth of her skin, light calluses on her fingertips. “Will Graham. Nice to meet you.” 

“Look, this is karma or kismet, bumping into you here, of all places, but we’d really like to take you to lunch if you have time; to thank you properly for saving his life,” she said, her smile turning from friendly to flirty. 

The boy looked up at Will, the same look of intensity on his small, round face. “Please?” 

Will smiled at him, and then nervously met Molly’s gaze, seeing the triumph in her eyes because she knew he would say yes. 

“I’d really like that,” he said, smiling at her. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note 1: Please mind the rating and the hatesex warning. This chapter contains quite a bit of rough, somewhat dubious consent in a marital relationship. It doesn’t cross into rape or anything noncon, but it does get a bit rough and hairy in some parts. 
> 
> Author’s Note 2: I won’t be able to update this fic for about a week. It’s the end of the semester, so I need to focus on getting my work done! Wish me luck!

**Garrett Jacob Hobbs Residence**

**Bloomington, Minnesota **

Hannibal handed Will his handkerchief so he could wipe Hobbs’s blood splatter off his face and glasses. Will didn’t like the scent of blood and he didn’t like scrubbing off dried blood from his skin either. 

“Local law enforcement met up with park services in Chippewa National Park. They found Hobbs’s hunting cabin. I’ve got the forensics team out there now collecting evidence. Katz told me that they found a room full of antlers and traces of hair and blood, but nothing else. They’ll take everything back to the labs and start matching DNA with the victims.” 

“You won’t find anything there because Hobbs only butchered them there,” Will said, looking at Hannibal. “You’ll want forensics in the Hobbs house. Check the fridge and freezer.” 

He could tell that Jack was coldly disturbed, but the stoic veteran nodded, taking note of Will’s suggestion. 

“It was a clean shoot,” Jack said as Will continued to calmly cleaned himself up. “How are you holding up?” 

“Aside from the fact that I should’ve seen it sooner…” he said, shrugging. “I’m fine.” 

Jack exchanged a look with Hannibal and Will suppressed the need to roll his eyes. 

“What we learn from the Hobbs case will help us catch the next Garret Jacob Hobbs. People can sleep a little easier tonight knowing that you stopped him. If it’s any consolation, you stopped Hobbs from killing more people.” 

“It’s not, but I know what you mean,” he said, meeting Jack’s gaze. 

“Will acted remarkably during the situation,” Hannibal said, softly. “Without Will’s insights, we wouldn’t be here today.” 

“I’ll be putting in a commendation,” Jack said, a hint of pride in his voice. 

Will made a face; it wasn’t like he wanted an award or to be shuttled out in front of the press. “I don’t want it to be public.” 

“Okay. I’ll do what I can. Get back to the motel, clean up, and go back home. Both of you. Will, I want you to take a couple of days off, but I need you both to submit your reports on Monday morning. I’ll handle local law enforcement and wrap things up here.” 

Will nodded and then handed the dirty handkerchief back to Hannibal, who tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket. He also held out his hand, raising his eyebrow. 

“What?” 

“May I have the car keys, Will? I think I should drive us back to the motel,” Hannibal said, kindly. 

Will sighed, tucking his hand into his pants pocket and pulling out the key fob, and handed it to Hannibal. Jack put his hand on Will’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and nodded for Will to leave. He walked to the other side of the rental car and got in the passenger side. 

*** 

**Minneapolis Motel**

**Minneapolis, Minnesota**

Will stared at himself in the fogged mirror, clean and fresh from his shower. He didn’t look different; didn’t look like a man who had taken someone’s life. It wasn’t the first time Will had to pull his weapon, but it was the first time that he used it. It was why he resigned from the New Orleans Police Department after he was injured in the line of duty. He couldn’t pull the trigger to protect himself from the drugged out suspect who went after him with a knife. At the time, he told the brass that he didn’t want to kill a person who was under the influence of narcotics, but everyone knew that he just didn’t have the stomach to pull the trigger. 

He placed his hand on the old scar on his right shoulder. He didn’t have a problem pulling the trigger on Garret Jacob Hobbs. 

He wrapped the towel around his hips and opened the bathroom door, stepping out into the motel room. Hannibal was sitting in a chair by the table, his legs crossed neatly, and hands clasped in his lap. Hannibal’s dark eyes followed him as he crossed the small room, moving up and down his torso, to his legs, examining him and coveting him at the same time. Will gave him a look and walked towards his small carry-on bag, pulling out a clean undershirt and boxers. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“A little shaky, but I’m okay,” he said, holding onto the towel at his hip. “The only regret that I have is not getting in the house sooner.” 

Hannibal took a deep breath and leaned back in the chair, giving Will a very serious look. “I’ve given some thought to how Hobbs was able to abduct the young women. His daughter, Abigail, was his Golden Ticket. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who learned to hunt at an early age.” 

Will licked his lips and stared at Hannibal for a long moment. Of course Hannibal would have figured it out, he had a brilliant mind and an imagination equal to Will’s. “She was the lure. All of the victims looked like her. They were substitutes for her.” 

“Imagine the fear that she must have lived with once she joined him on his hunts,” Hannibal said, cocking his head slightly. “Love and duty for a father who loved her so much that he was willing to keep her safe and out of his reach by killing and consuming girls who resembled her so closely that they could’ve been sisters. And a mother who may have turned a blind eye to the realization that her daughter was the singular focus of a psychopath already in their home, sleeping beside her in their marital bed. It won’t be an easy legacy to leave behind.” 

“Then let’s leave it behind and give them a little peace,” Will said, nodding solemnly. “Hobbs is dead. They were all his victims in the end.” 

Hannibal stared at him for a long moment and nodded his head in agreement. Will picked up his pants and walked into the bathroom to get dressed. 

***** **

“Just give him the damn farmhouse if he wants it so badly, Will. It’s just a house. We can get a house of our own,” Molly said, sitting on her bed and looking up at him. 

Will got dressed quickly, looking on the floor for his other sock. “It’s not just about the house. If I give him the house, then he’ll go after something else. It’s not going to stop just because I give up the house.” 

She fell back against the headboard and groaned. “Why does he even want the house? It’s in your name!” 

“He’s making a ridiculous claim of marital property because he invested $75,000 into it after we were married,” he said, finding the sock under the bed. He sat down and tugged it on his foot, letting out a frustrated sigh. “He doesn’t care about the house, but he knows that I do.” 

“What more do you have that he wants, Will?” She said, sharply. 

It rubbed him the wrong way, even though he knew she was right. He didn’t have anything else that Hannibal wanted. All he had was the house, the barn, and a broken boat named Nola. He had a little money in his savings and his pension. He could barely afford the divorce lawyer that he had hired. Hannibal was always in a stronger financial position and he wasn’t concerned about going broke. The longer it took the lawyers to go back and forth, the easier it was for Hannibal to force Will to give up. 

“We’ve been seeing each other for eight months -- you practically live here with me and Wally anyway,” she said, reasonably. “I have a little saved up from Wally’s father’s life insurance--” 

“No,” Will said, turning around to reach for her hand, looking at her. “No, that’s--that’s for you and Wally. I’ll make it work. I’ll talk with Hannibal and we’ll figure it out.” 

She smiled at him, a little sad. “You do know why he won’t give you a divorce.” 

Will snorted, rolling his eyes and letting go of her hand. He turned back around, reaching down to put on his shoes. “Yeah, he’s a possessive control freak--” 

“It’s because he loves you and he hopes that you’ll come back to him,” she said, cutting him off. 

Will swallowed, pausing for a moment. “No, that’s not why.” 

“I think a part of you wants him to keep fighting you on the divorce,” she said, quietly. “Oh, I know you love me, but it’s not the same for what you feel for him. It’s why you’re still holding onto the farmhouse...because you’re scared that if you give him the house, that he’ll stop fighting you and give you the divorce.” 

He really hated being psychoanalyzed. 

“Molly…” 

“I think we should take a little break, Will,” she said, her voice shaky with emotion. “Until you figure out what you really want -- who you really want in your life. I can’t be selfish and think only of myself. I have to think about Wally and who’s in his life, too. We need someone that we can depend on to be here every day. You...you can’t do that for us yet, Will.” 

He turned and looked at her, scooting across the bed to hold her, kissing her head. “Don’t shut me out, Molly. Just give me a little time to finish this with Hannibal.” 

“I know this has been hard for you, that it’s costing you,” she said, looking up at him. “And I know you love Wally like he’s your son. But if we’re not enough for you, Will, then you have to be the strong one to let us go.” 

“I’ll give him the damn farmhouse and anything else he wants in the divorce,” he whispered, stroking the soft skin of her back. 

*** 

“Hannibal!” He shouted, walking into the house, slamming the door behind as he made his way down the hallway towards the kitchen. “Hannibal!” 

Will walked into the dining room and opened the sliding doors into the main foyer, turning to his right to head towards the staircase. 

“Hannibal! Where the hell are you!” 

“Isn’t this a bit late for you? I thought you’d send me a courtesy text letting me know that you were coming up,” Hannibal said, walking slowly down the staircase. 

Despite the late hour, Will noticed that Hannibal hadn’t changed into his pajamas yet. He was still dressed in a white dress shirt and dark brown dress pants. 

Will glared up at him. “I’ll give you the fucking farmhouse. But you end this, Hannibal. Tell your lawyers that you’ll finalize the divorce paperwork.” 

“I don’t see what’s the rush,” he said, loftily, his dark eyes glinting with cruel mischief. He leaned against the staircase railing, looking down at Will with amusement. “Unless, of course, you have a pressing need for a divorce. Is Molly putting the screws to you, as they say?” 

“Don’t talk about her,” Will said, taking the steps until he was standing on the same step as Hannibal. “You’re always fucking around with my life, Hannibal. Just sign the divorce papers and be done with it.” 

“You would demand of me to make it so easy for you, Will?” Hannibal said, a little smirk playing on his lips. “How well you don’t seem to know me. You disappoint me, darling.” 

Will grabbed his arm and leaned closer to him so that they were just inches from each other. “Don’t test me, Hannibal. I know you well enough. I know you better than anyone else in this world. And I refuse to play this game with you anymore.” 

Hannibal glared at him and then looked pointed down at Will’s hand on his arm. “Take your hand off me,  _ William _ .” 

Will felt his stomach dip and something curled low in his belly, a smile slipping on his lips. He tightened his hold, knowing that he could be leaving a hand mark on Hannibal’s arm. He was a little thrilled by the idea of bruising him, that Hannibal would look at it later and think only of Will. 

“Or what,  _ Hannibal _ ?” 

Hannibal twisted his arm, grabbing Will’s wrist, and slammed Will against the wall. Dark eyes bore into Will’s, shifting into a savage look. He didn’t need to say anything, but then neither did Will. They were beyond words now. 

He didn’t know who leaned closer, who initiated the kiss. All Will knew was that one moment, they were standing nose to nose on the step, and then the next, Will was on his back, grabbing onto Hannibal’s white dress shirt, hearing the seams rip as Hannibal growled, biting down hard on his bottom lip. 

_ “Lying motherfucker,” _ Will hissed, jerking away from the sting of the bite, licking and tasting his blood. 

Will leaned forward and kissed Hannibal roughly and viciously, thrusting his tongue into Hannibal’s warm mouth and tasting mint and something darker. He reached up and threaded his fingers through Hannibal’s soft hair and grabbed a handful, holding him in place as he continued taking what he wanted. 

Hannibal grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back, slamming him against the staircase. Will winced, feeling the edge of the carpeted step digging a burning line across his back. He huffed out an angry grunt and wrapped his free hand around the front of Hannibal’s throat, using the leverage to move Hannibal back. He tucked his knee between Hannibal’s thighs and pressed him down, holding Hannibal in place against the steps. 

They were both breathing hard, clothes disheveled, and staring at each other. It took Will a moment to realize that Hannibal’s cock was hard against his thigh, a thick and firm line of heat burning against him. And Will realized that he was just as hard, pressing against the welcoming groove of Hannibal’s pelvis. He knew that Hannibal felt him, too, by the smug look on his face. 

Will leaned down, slowly, cautiously, wary of Hannibal biting him again. He pressed his lips almost chastely against Hannibal’s, and licked his upper lip slowly, tracing the masculine outline of it with the tip of his tongue. He remembered how much Hannibal liked it when Will did that. Hannibal let out a rumbly sound and tried to kiss him back, but Will tsked, tightening his hand on Hannibal’s throat as a warning. He watched as Hannibal licked his own lips, giving Will an acquiescing look, as he settled back against the steps. 

He let go of Hannibal’s throat, smoothing the palm of his hand on the luxuriously soft cotton dress shirt, fingertips sliding over the hard nub of his nipple underneath. Will sucked on his sore, bottom lip, as his other hand joined in the soft caresses. Will wasn’t an adventurous lover, too shy and too empathetic to truly enjoy sex recklessly; he was always in his mind, even when he was being fucked to an inch of his life. But being with Hannibal changed him; he could focus his mind on Hannibal and not get lost in his own thoughts. Hannibal touched him with such confidence and surety that Will could let go to feel all the things that Hannibal did to him. He could see and feel Hannibal’s delight in wrecking him, cracking him open and taking what he wanted. But Hannibal was generous, giving just as much as he took, until Will was too satiated to think. 

He grabbed the edges of the shirt and ripped it open, the sound of small buttons pinging against the wood staircase, no match for Will’s determination to destroy it. Hannibal let out a disgruntled sound, his eyes narrowing as he reached between them to undo Will’s belt, and then undo his pants, until one hand wrapped around Will’s cock, squeezing him just on the cusp of too dry and too hard. 

If Hannibal thought he was going to get the best of him, then he had another think coming. Will let go of the ruined dress shirt to force Hannibal’s pants open, breaking the button seam and the zipper in the process. He spat into his hand and curled it around Hannibal’s leaking cock, stroking him firmly. 

Hannibal sucked in a breath, his hips arching up but Will sat on him, keeping him down. His fingers teased the foreskin around the cock head, easing it down to the wet tip, knowing how sensitive Hannibal was there. Hannibal retaliated with a hard squeeze of Will’s cock, just under the head, making him thrust instinctively against Hannibal’s hand. 

_ “You’re a lying fucking bastard!” _ Will said, leaning down to kiss that beautiful deceitful mouth, sucking on Hannibal’s tongue. He stroked Hannibal’s cock roughly, thumbing the tip and laughing when he felt Hannibal shudder underneath him. 

But Hannibal knew his body, too, palming the head in a rhythm that made Will’s legs tremble. He groaned against Hannibal’s mouth, his free hand tucking under Hannibal’s neck, tilting his head so that he could get deeper into his mouth with his tongue. Maybe he could choke Hannibal with his tongue. 

Hannibal’s other hand slid underneath Will’s boxers, cupping his round ass, fingers slipping along the seam to teasingly caress his asshole. Will broke the kiss and groaned when he felt a dry fingertip pushing roughly into him. 

_ “Oh fuck,” _ he moaned, pressing his forehead against Hannibal’s chest. 

Will shuddered and pressed his teeth against Hannibal’s wiry chest hair, biting down hard as Hannibal’s finger breached him further, the dry friction crossing into pain and then into pleasure. Will’s body was hardwired for Hannibal’s kind of fun, but he knew what Hannibal liked, too. He sucked at his mouthful of flesh and felt Hannibal jerk against him, his hand wet with Hannibal’s come as he let out a throaty groan of pleasure. 

The smell of his come triggered Will, his balls tightening at the familiar scent, and he closed his eyes and groaned against Hannibal as he arched his back, thrusting his hips against the finger in his hole and gyrating his hips as Hannibal stroked his cock. He came hard, letting go of Hannibal with his teeth, and gritted his teeth with his head thrown back. His balls felt empty and sore, having already come earlier that night with Molly, and he didn’t spill very much into Hannibal’s hand but the pleasure was obscenely good. 

Will collapsed over Hannibal, both of them catching their breaths. 

“How dare you come to me with her scent still on your skin?” Hannibal said, bristling indignantly. 

He braced his hands against the steps and leaned back, staring down at Hannibal’s face. He grabbed his pants and got up on his knees, straightening his clothes as he got to his feet. Will had to admit that he really liked seeing Hannibal like this: clothes destroyed, covered in their come, his ruddy cock still hard and flat against his belly. He looked debauched and desecrated laid against the $6,000 Persian rug that covered the steps, with a look of pure jealousy etched on the lines of his handsome face. 

Will smirked, licking his lips. 

“Sign the goddamn divorce papers, Hannibal,” he said and walked down the rest of the stairs and out the side door. 

He sat in his car, wiping the taste of Hannibal off his lips, feeling like an asshole. He should feel guilty for cheating on Molly -- hell, he should feel guilty for cheating on Hannibal. He didn’t feel guilty about anything and that was why he felt like a big asshole. He didn’t regret what had just happened between them. He knew that it probably wouldn’t be the last time either. 

*** 

**Will Graham’s House **

**Wolf Trap, Virginia **

It was too late for Will to pick up the dogs from the boarding service, so he enjoyed a silent night, sitting out on his front porch. He was unused to the quiet and he suddenly missed his pack of companions. He didn’t know how lonely it would be without them; it reminded him of the first few months of living alone after leaving Hannibal. He had never considered adopting dogs then, too ingrained in Hannibal’s rule of no pets. 

He sipped his whiskey, no longer the cheap kind that he used to drink before Hannibal introduced him to better flavors and a higher quality of whiskey. 

Working on the Hobbs case with Hannibal felt good. Will liked being in the field, being helpful and saving people’s lives. Through their years of acquaintance, friendship, and marriage, Will and Hannibal never crossed professional paths. Hannibal would consult on cases, but Will wouldn’t necessarily be involved. Or Will would go out into the field to view a crime scene and Hannibal would review case files in the office, providing his own expertise. It was weird to be out in the field, working together. He hadn’t realized just how well they worked together, and he was bitter that they could be professional but not friends. 

Time and distanced dulled the pain of Hannibal’s betrayal; sometimes, Will forgot why he was so angry at him. And then he would remember that Hannibal broke his trust and then actively tried to ruin Will’s life. Hannibal was highly manipulative, possessive, and cruel when he was jealous; and Will knew how to push every single one of his buttons. 

No, that wasn’t quite right. 

Will had to face the hard truth that he ruined his relationship with Molly. Not all of that could be thrown down on Hannibal’s doorstep, though he certainly took every advantage and opportunity in Will’s weakening relationship with her to force his continued presence in Will’s life. When Will started to seriously date Molly, he looked deeply at her to ensure that he knew what he was walking into, and he didn’t hold back. No matter how deeply he dug into her psyche, Molly proved herself to be a woman of “what you saw was what you got” and he was inordinately pleased and relieved. He couldn’t go through another relationship with someone that he couldn’t trust. 

Still, he had to deal with Hannibal, and that meant that he needed to sit down and work things through with him. He would keep his dinner with Hannibal for Friday night. He would give Hannibal the courtesy that Will denied him years ago, to finally hear him out. 

And maybe they could both move on from each other. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: More naughtiness here! Beware of possible triggers and read at your own risk. There’s a bit of angst in this chapter.

Will slowed the Volvo station wagon down as he approached his house, seeing the lights on on the first floor, and an unfamiliar black car parked in his driveway. He carefully maneuvered his car next to the sedan and killed the engine, getting out to stare at the ostentatious car. It was a fucking Bentley and it was probably worth more than what he paid for his old farmhouse. He clenched his fist around his set of keys, resisting the urge to ruin the paint job and leave a long scratch along the side of the car. He shoved the keys into his jacket pocket, walking quickly past the new car so he wouldn’t be tempted to do damage to it. 

He could hear his two dogs barking joyfully through the screen door, the front door already opened. Will looked inside to see Hannibal standing in the living room, his fingers dancing along the keys of the upright piano. 

“I see that you bought a new car,” Will said, snidely. “Must be nice to be able to drop a few thousand dollars on that pretentious monstrosity.” 

“The Bentley Mulsanne is actually a fine automobile and cost $340,000,” Hannibal said, his head tilted slightly, lips forming into a smirk. “I didn’t require a car note.” 

“Jesus. I suppose that’s your midlife crisis,” Will said, frowning. “It must feel good to flaunt your wealth in my face.” 

“You should have the piano tuned,” Hannibal said, softly, still not bothering to turn around as Will swung open the screen door, shooing Max and Zoe out into the front yard. 

“What’re you doing here?” He said, stepping into the house and letting the screen door slam closed behind him. 

It was two weeks since that night at Hannibal’s house. They hadn’t had any kind of contact and Will’s lawyer didn’t have any updates for him on the status of their divorce paperwork. Hannibal still hadn’t signed and the farmhouse was still a sticking point of contention between them. It was weird seeing Hannibal inside the farmhouse again, filling up the empty space with his presence. He was dressed “casual” for him in dark slacks, dress shirt, and his camel colored cashmere driving coat. Hannibal’s formality looked out of place in the house. During the past year of their separation, Will had managed to remove a lot of Hannibal’s crap, shut away in a dozen boxes upstairs in the attic. He was more than happy for Hannibal to haul it away, less for Will to consider. 

“I don’t appreciate you walking into my home without even telling me that you’ll be by,” Will said, tartly. “Give me my keys back.” 

“Only if you return your keys to my home,” Hannibal said, closing the piano lid and turning to face him. 

“Fine. Here, take them,” he said, opening his key ring and pulling off the two keys to Hannibal’s house. He held them out to Hannibal, arching his brows. “Give me my keys.” 

Hannibal slowly reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his keys, sliding the two off that belonged to Will’s front door and rear door. 

Will snatched them from Hannibal’s hands and tossed the others into Hannibal’s waiting hand. “You can say what you have to say and then leave.” 

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” Hannibal said, putting his keyring back into his pocket. He looked around the living room, nudging the two doggy beds placed by the fireplace with the toe of his toe, a small, distasteful sneer forming on his lips. “No sleepover with Molly tonight?” 

Will bristled at the mocking tone, but decided not to respond. He wasn’t going to give Hannibal the satisfaction, even though he could tell that Hannibal enjoyed his cruelty. “If you thought I wasn’t going to be here, then why are you even here, Hannibal?” 

“I was curious to know what you’ve been doing to the house,” he said, walking closer to Will. “Since you had no problems taking things from my house, I came here to retrieve the Palladium.” 

Will rolled his eyes and snorted out a laugh of disbelief. “You seriously came here to take the stupid fancy coffee maker that no one knows how to use?” 

“It is a valuable piece of equipment that is being wasted here,” Hannibal said, snobbily. “And as you said, since you never bothered to learn how to use it properly, I feel that I should rescue it.” 

“Give me a fucking break!” 

“I did purchase it, as well as the renovations to the kitchen, the master bedroom, and the three bathrooms,” Hannibal said, raising his eyebrow. 

“I already told you that you can have the damn house in the divorce. You can have the fucking coffee maker and do whatever the hell you want with the house when you  **sign** the divorce papers.” 

“It’s a pity that you would so easily give up this house for your new girlfriend and her son,” Hannibal said, the lines on his face harsher due to his displeased expression. “I’m only ensuring the property’s safety from the likes of Ms. Foster’s greedy hands.” 

“Her greedy hands!” Will shouted, taking a step towards Hannibal and holding up his finger. “You’re one to talk about greed. This is just another example of your possessive nature. You don’t give a shit about the house. You just don’t want me to move on from you and make a life with Molly and Wally.” 

“And what kind of life do you expect to have with that woman and her child?” Hannibal said, sneering at him. “Do you really think that you’ll be satisfied with this kind of country living, caring for another man’s offspring, and barely existing in a dull marriage that will no doubt end up in emotional and physical atrophy?” 

“What pisses you off more, Hannibal? The fact that I left you or the fact that I plan to marry a woman you find so beneath you?” Will said, laughing at the expression on Hannibal’s face at the word ‘marry’. “You probably had some kind of grand scheme planned out to try and win me back; but all of that went right out the window once I started seeing Molly, didn’t it? Because you know that she’s nothing like you. She doesn’t take me to black tie affairs or make fancy dinners that takes two hours to get right. You think she’s plain and boring, but what you’ve forgotten is the fundamental thing that is wrong with us and why it won’t ever work between us! She won’t lie to me and she won’t betray me like the way that you did.” 

Hannibal reached out and grabbed a handful of Will’s hair, stepping close until they were pressed together and Will had no choice but to tilt his head back and meet Hannibal’s eyes. 

“Get off me!” Will hissed, grabbing Hannibal’s wrist with one hand, the other going to crush the fabric of his cashmere coat. 

Hannibal slammed Will against the nearby wall, grabbing both of his wrists and pinning them against the small of his back, pressing his chest against Will’s back. 

“You reek of pine and dogs and some awful cologne that comes with a ship on the bottle,” Hannibal said, brushing the tip of his nose against the back of Will’s head. “Do you honestly believe that I would allow you to marry her?” 

“It’s not your decision what I do with my life!”

Will tried to free his wrists but Hannibal used his advantage and brute strength, twisting Will’s right arm a little higher up his back, leveraging pressure against his weak rotator cuff. Will let out a groan of pain and stopped moving, panting roughly. 

“Don’t move,” Hannibal whispered, brushing his lips against Will’s ear. “Be a good boy for me, William.” 

_ “Fuck you.”  _

“Not tonight, my darling boy; I have other plans for us,” he said, chuckling darkly. “I’ve thought of little else than of you these past two weeks, to that night you came to my house, wanting to fight. It seems to me that you’re still looking for a fight.” 

Will tried to duck out of Hannibal’s hold, hissing when it pulled on his sore muscles. He took a deep breath and stopped struggling. 

“Now, be still,” Hannibal said, the warning in his voice made Will tremble. “Don’t move unless I say.” 

Will swallowed, breathing harshly through his nose, teeth clenched tight. He grunted when Hannibal released his wrists, letting Will’s arms fall to his sides. Sure hands reached for the front of his coat, gently pulling the edges back and pulling them off his arms. Hannibal tossed it to the nearby chair, his hands curling around Will’s waist, fingers spread out to touch as much of Will as he could. 

Hannibal leaned his entire body against Will’s back, his arms embracing Will and holding him close. He was warm against his back, body flushed up against him, hard cock pressing against Will’s ass. Hannibal let out a soft murmur, his breath heavy as he rubbed the front of his body against Will. 

“You always delight me in so many ways, Will.” 

“And you always take advantage.” 

Hannibal chuckled. “Your passion, your anger, unpredictable to the end.” 

Soft kisses made their way at the nape of Will’s neck and Will bit his tongue, trying not to move, trying not to encourage Hannibal. He knew where this was going and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to make it easy for Hannibal. The man was too smug for his own good, having spent many long nights touching Will, examining all of the places that Will liked to be touched with his fingers and his tongue. 

“We...we shouldn’t do this,” Will whispered, trembling. “I’m with someone else now. It’s...it’s not fair for any of us to continue doing this.” 

Hannibal let out a displeased sound, the kisses stopping. The arms holding Will released him and Will closed his eyes, a little sorry that it was ending even though it was the right thing, and gasped when Hannibal pushed Will into the wall, a little too roughly, so that Will’s cheek slapped against the plaster. 

Rough hands undid Will’s belt and his pants, pulling his boxers and his pants down to his ankles, trapping his feet. He felt Hannibal kneel down behind him, hands squeezing Will’s ass cheeks, and parting them until he felt Hannibal’s hot, wet tongue stroke over his hole. 

Will groaned, grabbing for the wall with his hands, as his legs trembled, nearly going out from under him. Hannibal’s strong hands held his hips against the wall, face pressed tight against him as his tongue pushed inside of Will. 

“Hannibal! Jesus!” Will shouted, trying to turn to look down at him. 

When he started sucking on his hole, Will closed his eyes and moaned, arching his back and pressing his ass against Hannibal’s face and tongue, begging for more. Hannibal was his only lover to do this for him and Will had lost his aversion for the act long ago in Hannibal’s bed. It took a lot of persuasion on Hannibal’s part, as well as a couple of lectures on health and cleanliness, and countless discussions on the illicit and taboo nature of rimming -- and because it was Hannibal, a few historical anecdotes thrown in for fun. The first time Will allowed Hannibal to rim him, Will had screamed his pleasure into the pillow, too turned on to even know what to do with his body, the shock of it so nasty and so delicious. Will had been fingered and fucked in the ass before, but the idea that the dignified and respectable Dr. Hannibal Lecter would deign to stick his tongue into Will’s ass and eat him out with such enthusiasm and skill always made Will come faster than anything else. 

Hannibal licked up his ass and got back on his feet, pressing close to Will and kissing his neck, chuckling darkly. 

“Do you let her do this for you, Will? Do you beg for her to press her tongue deeper into you? Does she know that you like to be debased and fucked raw?” 

Will caught his breath and elbowed Hannibal hard, feeling the other man inhale sharply in pain, his body jerking against Will. 

“I told you not to talk about her! This is between us!” 

Hannibal slapped his ass with the hard flat of his palm. “You’ve been quite rude, William. I’ll give you what you want, but I won’t let you come unless you beg me for it. Would you like that, my darling?” 

Will choked on his breath when he felt Hannibal’s hand wrap around his cock, already wet and dripping with pre-come from Hannibal tonguing him open. He shivered, thrusting his cock into Hannibal’s hand. He muffled his groans against his arm as Hannibal stroked him quickly, thumb sliding over the head, until Will felt his balls tightened. He pressed his ass back against Hannibal, rubbing against the hardness under his slacks. 

Then Hannibal’s hand stilled and Will moaned his protest. 

“Don’t stop,” he said, gasping. “Hannibal, don’t stop.” 

He felt Hannibal reach between them, undoing the front of his slacks. Will opened his eyes and blinked, frowning slightly. If Hannibal thought that he was going to fuck Will dry, then he had--

_ “Ohhhh!” _ Will squeaked, feeling the wet thickness of lube being squeezed into his ass, fingers pressing into his hole, loosening the ring of muscle, and then the thick head of Hannibal’s cock sliding over his hole and pushing slowly inside. “ _ Ohhhhhhh _ fuck yes!” 

Hannibal groaned against Will’s neck, adjusting their stances so that he pulled Will’s squirming hips back, thrusting the rest of his cock into him. The hard length filled him deeply and Will bit his lower lip, eyes squeezed shut as his thighs trembled, hips arching back to take Hannibal in all the way, his balls brushing against Will’s ass. 

They both moaned as Hannibal fucked him with long, deep strokes, tilting Will’s hips so that the next strokes rubbed over his prostate, Will pushing back against him, nearly moving to the tips of his shoes. Hannibal braced his hand against Will’s shoulder, fingers digging into his muscles, the other hand gripping Will’s bared hip. He could feel Hannibal’s short, blunt nails marking his flesh. Will knew he’d have fresh bruises as Hannibal slammed into him, over and over, pushing Will into the wall until he had to brace his arm in front of him before Will’s face was permanently red from hitting the plaster. 

Hannibal’s wet hand curled around Will’s cock again, stroking him too quickly, not giving Will a chance to catch his breath or figure out how to move. He thrust his cock into Will and then held still, his hand squeezing under the head, keeping Will just on the precipice of coming. 

“Hannibal,” Will said, groaning. “Hannibal. Please!” 

“Such a good boy for me, my darling,” Hannibal said, pressing his mouth on the side of Will’s neck as he bit him there lightly, sucking on his skin. He started to thrust again, his cock pushing into Will with a steady rhythm, pushing against his prostate until Will clenched his muscles around Hannibal’s cock, his balls tightening and spine crackling with pleasure, coming so hard that he grunted noisily, loud enough that his dogs started barking and whining by the front door. 

“Hannibal...fuck…” 

Hannibal moved his mouth, pressing it against the back of his head, moaning throatily as he came inside of Will, trembling against Will’s body as he gave a few more thrusts, pressing Will against the wall with his full weight. 

It only took a moment before Hannibal slipped out of him and Will pushed him away, reaching down to drag up the tangle of his boxers and slacks, pulling them on. He could feel Hannibal’s come and lube dripping out of him, the wet globs of his own come on the hardwood floor. When he turned around, Hannibal was redressed as well, his hand reaching up to carefully brush back his hair from his forehead. He regarded Will with a pleased look on his face. 

“You can get out now,” Will said, glaring at him. 

“Perhaps you should purchase some concealer,” Hannibal said, smoothing down the wrinkles on his cashmere coat. “I seem to have left a few marks on your neck.” 

Will crossed his arms, making a face at him. 

“I will see myself out,” Hannibal said, charmingly. “Have a good evening, Will.” 

Will watched as Hannibal opened the screen door, patting the heads of Max and Zoe as he let them into the house. The dogs rushed towards Will and he let out a deep sigh, petting them and trying to get them settled. He tsked at them, pointing to their doggy beds, and watched as Zoe went to her bed right away. Max looked a little reluctant and Will softened, smiling as he looked at him, bending to stroke his head to reassure him. He patted Max on his behind, sending him to his bed. 

By the time Will reached the front door, the Bentley had already backed down the driveway and turned to head down the road away from Will’s house. He shut the door and locked it, running his hands over his face, touching the sensitive places where Hannibal had kissed and sucked him. 

He walked into the bathroom on the first floor and turned on the lights, stepping in front of the mirror to look at himself. He tilted his head and saw that there was a very dark, reddish black hickey on his neck, too high up to cover with the collar of his shirt. Fuck, he really would need to buy some concealer. He didn’t have any turtlenecks and it wasn’t cold enough to wear a scarf. He wasn’t hip enough to get away with wearing a scarf without his coat. This was going to take a couple of weeks for it to go away. How was he possibly going to explain it to Molly? 

***** **

**Hannibal Lecter’s Residence**

**Baltimore, Maryland **

Will stood outside of Hannibal’s house, taking a few deep breaths to calm his nervousness. He swallowed and then rang the doorbell, damn it all to hell. He considered making a run for his car, but he heard Hannibal on the other side, opening the front door. 

“Good evening, Will.” 

“Hello, Hannibal,” he said, waiting for Hannibal to invite him inside. 

Hannibal smiled and moved to the side, motioning for Will to come in. He stepped inside and gave a pained grin, holding up the bottle of red wine in his hands. 

“I didn’t know what you would make for dinner, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong with a simple red.” 

He watched as Hannibal took the bottle from him, looking at the label. “ _ Ahhh _ ...the 2016 Sena. One of the finest Chilean wines produced from this estate. This is an excellent vintage, Will. We shall have to open it tonight so that we can enjoy it together.” 

“Good. Uh, good,” Will murmured, feeling a little flushed from Hannibal’s obvious pleasure. 

“Dinner is ready,” Hannibal said, placing his hand on the small of Will’s back, gently directing him towards the dining room. “Let me chill the wine and bring out appetizers. Please, have a seat here.” 

Hannibal pulled out the chair and patted it, smiling. Will nodded and took his seat, watching as Hannibal walked into the kitchen through the doorway. He looked around the dining room, noticing that it hadn’t changed over the years. The walls were still a dark royal blue, the herb garden wall was blooming beautifully, and there was a small fire in the fireplace behind him, giving the room a warm orange glow. The table was set for two and Hannibal had pulled out his favorite plates, the setting was formal as his usual. Will counted the forks and realized that it would be a three course dinner, which in Hannibal’s world meant a “small” feast. 

It had been years since Will sat at Hannibal’s table, and his heart was fluttering like it was the first time. He could still remember what it felt like that first time Hannibal invited him to dinner. He had shown up with a less-than-impressive red wine, but Hannibal had graciously accepted it and poured it with their meal. Will didn’t think he was as nervous back then as he was now. The only things he had worried over was not dropping food on his shirt and maybe making interesting conversation. He had wanted to impress Hannibal then and had prepared for that dinner by reading  _ The Washington Post  _ Sunday edition from the front page to the last page, focusing on the Arts and Entertainment section, and by his second glass of wine, he had brazenly bullshitted his way through various topics on museums and pop culture to Hannibal’s amusement. Will learned, much later, that Hannibal was charmed by Will and already so besotted that Hannibal was already planning their next date before dessert was served. It had been so easy back then. 

Now, all he had to offer was the most expensive wine Will had ever purchased and a couple of hours of stilted conversation, trying to keep to neutral topics. And there was always a chance that either of them could say something to trigger a full blown argument.

Hannibal returned to the dining room, wheeling in a small service cart and stopping by the table. He had decanted the wine into a beautiful crystal vessel, the rich liquid looked ruby purple in the light. Hannibal grinned at him as he poured their glasses, setting the decanter on the table. 

“Give it a taste,” he suggested, working on plating their food onto small tasting plates. 

Will reached for the wine glass and took a moment to give it a good inhale. He scented something rich and fruity, and took a small sip, letting it flow over his tongue. It actually was pretty damn delicious and he could tell from Hannibal’s little knowing smile that he was pleased by Will’s enjoyment. 

“It’s quite like silk on the palate,” Hannibal said, setting the tasting plate in front of Will. “I think it pairs perfectly with our meal. To start, I’ve made a simple gratin dauphinoise with wild mushrooms and truffle shavings.” 

Will chuckled, watching as Hannibal sat down across from him at the table. “It looks and smells delicious; and nothing you make is ever simple.” 

Hannibal took a sip of his wine, a faint smile on his lips. He nodded to accept Will’s compliment and they settled in to start on the small dish. 

“I was pleased that you accepted my dinner invitation,” he said, looking up at Will. “I honestly didn’t think that you would.” 

“What do you hope to gain from this?” Will said, out of curiosity than anything else. He was privy to Hannibal’s usual manipulations and he wanted to know what to expect. 

Hannibal considered it for a long moment. “Perhaps a new start to our relationship. Despite the wounds we dealt to each other, you must remember that we had some truly memorable moments.” 

Will chewed slowly, trying to buy some time before he responded. He actually didn’t know how to respond. Did he want to resurrect the reasons why Will left? Was Hannibal even capable of being genuinely sorry for what he did to Will? 

He opted for the truth. “I don’t know what to think or say, Hannibal.” 

“But you are not ready to reconsider the state of our relationship and our marriage.” 

Will sipped his wine, shaking his head, hesitantly. “I don’t know if we can.” 

Hannibal took a deep breath, watching Will steadily. “The last time we were intimate, I felt that you had something you wanted to tell me, but I never gave you a chance to tell me what you wanted.” 

He felt his face flush with heat and humiliation, taking a bigger sip of wine and looking at the table. 

“I misread you, didn’t I, Will?” Hannibal said, softly. “That last night we were together.” 

Will cleared his throat and found the last of his resolve, and met Hannibal’s dark brown eyes. “It’s in the past now, Hannibal. We both know it can’t be changed. The teacup is shattered.” 

“But is the teacup truly broken?” Hannibal said, looking at Will with great sadness. “I often think of what it would be like if the teacup reformed itself.” 

*** 

Hannibal pressed him against the plush headboard, thrusting into him roughly. Will clung to Hannibal’s shoulders, his legs dangling over Hannibal’s arms. He had already come twice and he couldn’t get it up again, but he liked the way Hannibal grunted against him, pushing Will’s back up on the headboard, coming in a hard shudder and a loud groan. 

Will moaned helplessly as Hannibal slipped out of him, sore and wet and deliciously used. They were both a mess, the bedding was unsalvageable. Hannibal placed him gently on the torn bed and fell on his back, his arm flung over his eyes, panting harshly. 

He stared at Hannibal, feeling raw and vulnerable, like Hannibal finally fucked all the anger out of him. He took a deep breath and pushed his legs over the side of the bed, sitting on the edge as his heart raced in his chest. 

Maybe...maybe with some counseling, they could talk about what happened before with the encephalitis and the reasons why Hannibal kept treatment from him. They could talk about why Will left. Obviously, there wasn’t going to be any easy fix between them, but if they were both willing to try, if Hannibal worked to regain Will’s trust...maybe…

Every married couple went through challenges. Maybe they could try again. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Will,” Hannibal said, his voice rough with emotion. “I don’t want to continue to feel the things that I feel. My jealousy and your anger and our constant battles are wearing on me. I never know if you’re going to gut me with your words or fuck me. Our lives have branched out in opposing directions and I do not know how to bring us back. I will always be guilty in your eyes and I understand why you are furious with me. I will let you go if that is what you desire. I won’t fight you on your farmhouse anymore. It was never mine to keep. Perhaps you were never mine to keep as well.” 

Will sat on the bed for a long moment, his throat tightening, feeling hurt and rejected. He was glad that he hadn’t said anything about trying to reconcile. At least he wouldn’t be humiliated by Hannibal’s rejection. He realized, with some sharp pain of finality, that Hannibal was offering him a clean out. He didn’t want to fight for Will anymore. 

“It’s for the best,” Will said, roughly. He stood up on shaky legs and gathered his clothes, hurrying into the bathroom and shutting the door. 

*** 

Will finished his appetizer and placed his fork on the plate. “It doesn’t come back together again. The teacup is too destroyed; some shards are missing. It doesn’t have the same use as before. Maybe it’s best to get a new teacup.” 

Hannibal tilted his head, his lips curving slightly into a smile. “In Japanese ceramic and pottery arts, there is a philosophy called kintsugi, which treats the breakage and repair of an object a part of its history rather than to merely fix the damage. A broken teacup may seem like it has no purpose, but it is even more valuable for it as it shows the events of its existence.” 

Will stared at him for a long moment, trying to parse out his pretty metaphors. He felt his lips form a rough frown and he snorted, looking away, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t you just say what you really want, Hannibal? Put your cards on the table for once.” 

He met Hannibal’s eyes, and for the first time in a long time, waited patiently for Hannibal’s response. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Angst. Just some angst. And talking and fighting. Lots of talking in this chapter. We'll get to the good stuff in the next chapter. Heh.

Hannibal set his wine glass down on the table, his gaze unmoving from Will’s face. “What I want hasn’t changed, Will.” 

He raised his eyebrow. “What about what I want? Has that ever crossed your mind?” 

“I do think of what you could want and what we could have again, quite often in fact.” 

“You can’t believe that even if we were to, hypothetically, reconcile, that we’d be able to pick up where we left off,” Will said, frowning. “We haven’t seen each other in five years. We’ve lived separate lives for more than eight. I mean, we were only together for about two years before everything went to hell.  _ Everything _ has changed, Hannibal.” 

“My feelings for you...my regard for you...has not changed.” 

Will stared at him. “Your regard for me? What the hell does -- “ 

“My love for you, Will!” Hannibal snapped, breaking his carefully constructed mask of calm. He took a deep breath and looked away, the fingers of his left hand tapping gently on top of the table. “I love you, Will. I’ve always loved you. Despite everything between us, that hasn’t changed.” 

“You’re angry.” 

Hannibal flicked his eyes back to Will, meeting his gaze. His hand curled into a fist. “Yes.” 

“Do you believe you’re justified in your anger?” 

“My feelings are no less valid than yours.” 

Will chewed on that for a long moment, taking deep breaths to stem his own need to lash out. “Why did you lie to me about my encephalitis?” 

Hannibal opened his mouth and Will cut him off, knowing exactly what Hannibal would say. 

“A sin of omission is still a lie, Hannibal. Don’t lie to me now.” 

“You were correct in your assessment of my motivations,” he said, softly. “I  **was** curious. I wanted to see how far it would go and how you would react to it. I wanted to know what you would do.” 

“And what was the endgame? Were you going to publish about it as you watched me fall apart? You hitched your wagon to a living encephalitis patient, who also, conveniently, happened to be your husband with a medical proxy that gives you the power to make decisions about my life, and for what? To earn the glory of your peers?” 

“No, of course not!” 

“Then what was your endgame, Hannibal!” 

“I wanted to shape your mind while you were vulnerable to me,” he said, his voice deepening with emotion. “I wanted you close and to witness what you could become.” 

“Tasteless.” Will sneered, glaring at him. He thought that it was ironic that Hannibal found being called tasteless would ruffle his feathers the wrong way. “You didn’t want a husband. You wanted a guinea pig for your experiments. I was just a test subject. Someone you could observe in your controlled environment.” 

“That is absolutely not true.” 

Will gritted his teeth, breathing through his nose. “Isn’t it? How long did you know before I passed out in my classroom? How long did you observe me?” 

Hannibal gave him a pained look. “Will -- “ 

“How long, goddamn it! And don’t lie because I’ll know it!” 

“Four months.” Hannibal closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I noticed a subtle shift in your scent and the slight increase in your normal body temperature.” He opened his eyes and regarded Will for a long moment. “I remember that you took great pains to hide your symptoms. Not just from me, but from your colleagues and friends, too.”

Will thought back to those months before his collapse. How he thought that he was just overworked or over-stressed. The strange dreams and nightmares that woke him from sleep in the middle of the night, sweating through his clothes and the bedsheets. He thought about how he felt, losing time, and his secret fear that he was mentally deteriorating and how he didn’t want anyone to know, especially Hannibal. He remembered the piercing headaches and popping painkillers like they were candy. 

And then he remembered how incredibly attentive Hannibal was. Oh, Will knew that he had Hannibal’s full attention; there was something so thrilling and amazing to be at the center of it. And Will had no doubts that Hannibal was concerned for him, but there were moments when Hannibal was detached and emotionally inaccessible, just watching Will with a strange look in his eyes. How he changed the bedding without comment, sometimes several nights in a row. How he gave Will hot tea and sat in hot baths with him. Hannibal never once complained when Will would forget something or try to pick a fight with Hannibal over the smallest thing. But there was an underlying sense of clinical interest that Will brushed off, believing he was just being paranoid and insecure. He didn’t want to be a burden and a part of him was scared that Hannibal would abandon him, unable to deal with whatever Will was going through. 

Hannibal wouldn’t have left him, though. Will understood that now; Hannibal would’ve stayed to the very end, too fascinated and enraptured and  _ invested _ with Will’s downward mental spiral. 

“Four fucking months,” he muttered, shaking his head. 

“Your mind is incredible and nothing like I’d ever known before. You were cognizant and you could speak articulately on your condition without knowing the cause of it. There was never a documented case where a patient with the affliction could provide such empathetic clarity. I truly believed that I could get you medical care before your condition worsened. When you collapsed in your classroom, I realized that I had made a terrible mistake and not only risked your life but risked your mind,” he said, looking at Will. “I don’t have many regrets in my life, Will, but hurting you in that way is my greatest one.” 

Will gave him a disgusted look. “You only regret it because I caught you at your game, Hannibal.” 

He watched as Hannibal’s upper lip curled in distaste. “My regret is genuine.” 

“You’ve never once fucking apologized to me!” 

“I am more sorry than you can know,” he said, looking at Will with a pained expression on his face. “I am sorry, Will.” 

He stared deep into Hannibal’s eyes, looking for the microexpressions that always gave away what people really felt. Will was adept at reading people correctly, but that skill was developed over time, growing up poor and learning to fend for himself. He could always clearly see  _ how _ something was done. Learning to fix boat engines taught him that every piece had a place; even the most complex motors were based on similar structures and functions. In many ways, Will thought the same about people. But it was the empathy that gave him the added bonus of reasoning out the  _ why _ behind people’s actions and behaviors. 

But he didn’t see anything other than Hannibal’s apology written on his face. He understood Hannibal’s personality pathology -- the God-like narcissism and the control issues - but these characteristics weren’t alarming for Will. They were common traits found in people who worked in high-stress environments. 

What Will couldn’t forget was that Hannibal was willing to gamble with Will’s health in the pursuit of his own curiosity, even though Hannibal loved him and cared for him. Because if he could do that, what else was Hannibal capable of doing? 

“Did you -- did you start a relationship with me because you wanted better access to my abilities?” 

Hannibal licked his lips and gave him a small, apologetic smile. 

“In certain professional circles, you are something of a white whale. Like my colleagues in the field, I was just as intrigued about your empathy. I had read a number of journal articles about your particular gifts and I read your own journal articles in the field of forensic science and psychology. But I had heard that you refused every request to interview you, so I did use my friendship with Alana Bloom to gain a social introduction, but everything that happened afterwards, it was because I fell in love with you.” 

Will pushed back his chair angrily, getting to his feet and walking towards the sliding doors into the foyer. Hannibal stood as well, watching Will carefully, but he didn’t make a move to chase after him. 

“Please, don’t leave, Will,” he murmured, quietly. “Please.” 

*** 

Hannibal thanked the bartender and picked up his flute of champagne from the counter. He took a sip of the cool golden liquid, letting the taste of the tart flavors explode on his tongue. He frowned, slightly, at the subtle bitter aftertaste. He could taste that the bottle had been left open for too long before the drink was poured. 

He turned and looked out at the sea of people, utterly bored with the usual coterie of Baltimore’s opening night attendees. He had already gotten his picture taken with the Mayor and his wife for the society pages; and spent enough time engaging with his acquaintances while he made his way around the reception area. He escaped the clutches of Mrs. Komeda, who had loudly pronounced that Hannibal needed to host a dinner party, putting him on the spot. As much as he liked her social friendship, he often found her presumptuous. He narrowed his eyes.  _ Rude _ , was the correct term. He scanned the crowd, looking for an interesting new face, when he saw that Alana Bloom had arrived with her guest. Hannibal hid his smirk as he took another sip of the flat champagne, regretting it instantly. 

_ “I have received four tickets to the opening night gala at the Baltimore Metropolitan Opera. Would you care to attend as my guest?”  _

_ Her eyes widened in surprise and pleasure. “Oh, those tickets are impossible to come by. I would love to attend.”  _

_ “I’ve given one of my tickets to a former colleague of mine, but I would very much like it if you invited your friend. The one who published the article on personality pathologies...I think his name is Will Graham.”  _

_ Alana laughed, giving him a fond but knowing look. “Will Graham isn’t the opera type, Hannibal. Trying to convince him to go to one will be like trying to get a cat to take a bath -- and I’ll probably end up with a bunch of scars.”  _

_ He gave her a challenging look. “I’m sure you’ll be able to convince him. You are entirely too persuasive when you put your mind to it.” _

_ “I’ll extend the invitation, but don’t get your hopes up, Hannibal.”  _

Will Graham had a very interesting face. Beyond the fact that he was quite attractive and with lovely blue eyes, he looked positively uncomfortable and annoyed although he was hiding it well. It was obvious that he had made an attempt to comb his hair, the waves of his brown hair barely tamed with a hair product. Hannibal deduced that the man was unused to socializing, ducking his head shyly; but his eyes were alert, moving quickly to observe the people around him. His suit was ill-fitted to his lean frame, far too loose and untailored at the shoulders and waist, but it was of good quality. Hannibal wondered if Alana had helped Will purchase it. The style favored Alana’s good taste -- a classic single-breast with narrow lapels, a sedate dark blue wool, though not in the same class as the formal tailored suits and tuxedos that the other men in the reception room were wearing. However, that didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, Hannibal could tell that he couldn’t have cared less. Will Graham didn’t seem to have any vanity, and Hannibal was intrigued to encounter such a man. 

“Hannibal, there you are! We were looking for you,” Alana said, smiling widely as she took his hand, leaning her face to the side so that he could give her a polite kiss to the cheek. 

“Good evening, Alana,” he said, grinning. “You look exceptionally beautiful this evening.” 

“Thank you,” she said, raising her eyebrow. She turned and put her hand on the arm of the man standing behind her, gently pulling him towards them. “I’d like you to meet my friend and colleague, Will Graham. Will, this is my mentor, Dr. Hannibal Lecter.” 

Will held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Lecter.” 

Hannibal shook his hand with a warm smile. He wasn’t surprised by Will’s firm grip; but he hadn’t expected to feel the calluses on his fingertips. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Graham.” 

Alana chuckled, giving them both an exasperated look. “ _ Mr. Graham. Dr. Lecter. _ Please, gentlemen, let’s dispense with formalities this evening. Will. Hannibal.” 

Will smiled, quirking his eyebrows at Hannibal. “I don’t know about you, Hannibal, but I don’t think it’s wise to make Alana angry at us.” 

“Indeed. I would never want to be the target of Alana’s temper,” he said, cordially. He turned and signaled to the bartender, and set his unsatisfactory glass of champagne on the counter. “What would you two like to drink? I recommend anything but the champagne. I believe it is two days old and incredibly bitter to the taste.” 

“I’d love a glass of red, Hannibal, you know what I like.” 

“And you, Will?” 

“Whiskey neat, if they have it,” Will said, meeting Hannibal’s eyes straight on. “Thank you.” 

Hannibal held Will’s gaze and smiled. 

*** 

_ “Please, don’t leave, Will,” Hannibal murmured, quietly. “Please.”  _

Will desperately wanted to leave, but he wanted answers more. He needed to look beyond Hannibal’s carefully crafted “person suit” and see the real man hidden behind the veil. He needed to know this man in order to deal with him...and to finally decide if Will wanted out completely or if there was something worth salvaging. 

_ “Fuck,” _ he whispered, rubbing his fingers on his forehead. He turned back to the table to take his seat and stared at his empty plate, his fingers curled into fists against his legs. 

“Let me serve the entree,” Hannibal said, picking up their plates and walking quickly into the kitchen. Will appreciated the breather, and he picked up the glass of wine and took a deep drink, wetting his dry mouth. 

He was feeling calmer by the time Hannibal returned, carrying two large dinner plates in his hands. He set down one plate in front of Will, turning it slightly to better display the food. 

“Long bone ribeye which has been dry-aged for no less than 40 days served with exotic roasted vegetables,” Hannibal said and walked to his side of the table, setting his own plate down first before sitting down. “Cooked only just to medium rare; perhaps more on the rare side than is usual, but it’s the only way to enjoy the cut.” 

“I do like my steaks a little bloody,” he said, setting his cloth napkin on his lap. He sliced into the tender cut, revealing the juices and the bright pink flesh. He put the cut of meat in his mouth and chewed, the spectacular spices and smoky flavor of the meat making him drool. Hannibal watched him avidly as he ate, and Will couldn’t help the small smile from forming on his lips. “It’s delicious. But you know it is.” 

“I still desire your praise.” Hannibal smiled with pride, cutting into his own steak. “Have you worked on a lot of cases with Jack Crawford in the past?” 

“A few; on some of the tougher ones,” he said, settling into dinner and less uncomfortable topics. “But I focus more on teaching and writing.” 

“I imagine that your...unique gift is much in demand. Your students must admire your abilities.” 

Will looked up at Hannibal and let out an amused huff. “I think a lot of my students think I’m kind of an anti-social freak.” 

Hannibal gave him a small grin. “Trying to preserve some of your mystique?” 

“Hardly. I don’t think it’s appropriate to applaud your instructor when he walks into class after shooting a criminal to death.” 

Hannibal made an interesting humming sound, but they ate their entree in silence. Will knew that Hannibal was trying to keep away from heated topics, but Will still had more questions than answers. 

“We worked well together,” Hannibal said, thoughtfully. 

Will chewed slowly and looked up at him. Hannibal grinned, waiting patiently as he watched Will chew his food, knowing that Will wouldn’t be rude enough to talk with his mouth full. 

He took his time, picking up his wine glass and pausing to inhale the fragrance, and then taking a small sip. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to make that into a habit,” he said, shrugging slightly. “Jack totally sprung this case on me last minute. And after what happened with Hobbs...I don’t think I want to go back into the field for a long while. He wants me to get a psych eval, but that’s not going to happen any time soon.” 

“Your aversion to therapy...is it due to what happened with us?” 

Will scoffed and shook his head. “My aversion to being psychoanalyzed started long before we met, Hannibal. Not everything is about you.” 

Hannibal gave him an amused grin. “I never assumed that it was; we’re just...having conversations.” 

Will took another sip of his wine and then set the glass down on the table. He turned his attention to his food, secretly pleased with Hannibal’s choices. The food was obviously comfort food, but styled in the way that only Hannibal could design. It was rather thoughtful of him. 

During their marriage, Will always let Hannibal make those kinds of decisions - what Will wore, what Will ate -- and it did open him to a whole new world. Will just didn’t have strong preferences, always curious about what Hannibal would select for him. The first few months after Will moved out of Hannibal’s house were mind-bogglingly difficult. He would spend a lot of time trying to figure out what to wear and what to eat, a part of his mind constantly thinking of Hannibal’s preferences for him. It took months for Will to finally be free of Hannibal’s influences, where he could make choices for himself. He had forgotten what it was like; he realized much later that their co-dependency was borderline obsession on both sides. 

“You’ve never trusted easily,” Hannibal noted, looking at him with a soft, regretful expression. 

“I trusted you...and that turned out to be…” Will trailed off, thinking of the right word. “And that turned out to be exactly what I expected.” 

He was surprised that Hannibal took the censure well enough. They continued to eat somewhat companionably. He and Hannibal were not gregarious people by nature; both of them led vivid internal lives. So when they spoke, it was always with mutual interest. 

Will let out a deep sigh. “The last night that we were together...when you said that you wouldn’t fight me on the divorce anymore...I was considering…” 

Hannibal blinked, staring at him raptly. “Considering?” 

“I was going to ask you to go to couples therapy,” he said, swallowing the hard lump in his throat. “I was going to ask if we could...maybe take it slow and try again, if we could work through what happened.” 

“ _ Will _ ,” Hannibal whispered, setting his utensils on the plate and staring at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that then?” 

“Because I was humiliated that you wanted to end it, while I thought we could work things out,” he said, roughly. “You wouldn’t even look at me and when I looked at you, I could see that you were tired of me.” 

“Not of you,” Hannibal said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I was tired of the fighting and the anger. I was giving you what you wanted.” He let out a noisy breath, shaking his head. “My plan was to give you what you wanted and then to make real amends after we took some time to reassess our life together.” 

Will shook his head, staring down at his plate. “You hurt me, Hannibal.” 

“Yes, I did,” he said, quietly. “But you hurt me as well.” 

“Mutually assured destruction,” Will said, glancing quickly at Hannibal to get a read of his face. 

“We seem to bring out the best and worst in each other. There was a time when we were happy together. I made you happy once.” 

Will licked his lips and then shrugged, giving a slight nod. “Yeah.” 

“I can’t ever give you peace of mind, Will, but I want to try and regain your friendship.” Hannibal took a deep breath and sighed. “I’ve been waiting these five years for you to send me divorce papers, but you never did. May I ask why?” 

“I don’t know,” he said, cutting into the meat slowly. “I just figured that we were living separate lives and if either of us needed out because we were with someone else, then it would happen. After all this time apart, I’m sure all it’ll take is a simple signature.”

“Do you still want a divorce, Will?” 

Will met Hannibal’s eyes as they stared at each other for a long moment.


End file.
